Not Without My Brother
by AnastaziaDanielle
Summary: Dean is mourning the loss of his father when he receives the startling phone call telling him that he has custody of his three-year-old half-brother Samuel. Dean steps up to the challenge and goes to pick up the little brother he's only met once before. AU
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.

Special thanks to LadyWallace for all of the help, suggestions, and support!

This story is AU. The accident at the end of season one happened, but there was no Sam.

Not Without My Brother

_"__There's no other love like the love for a brother.__There's no other love like the love from a brother."__-Terri Guillemets_

Prologue

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and stepped into the motel's tiny excuse for a bathroom. He studied his reflection in the mirror and winced. A cut that ran along his hairline had bled down the side of his face. The blood, in a trickle down his cheek, had dried dark and crusty. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes. Sleep had become a rarity these days. Not only had Dean kept himself busy with one hunt after another since his father's death, but when he did try to sleep it had been riddled with nightmares.

Dean splashed cold water over his face and then patted it dry with a towel. He looked a little better now that the dried blood was gone. Deciding on a shower, he kicked off his shoes and shucked off his clothes before turning on the shower and waiting for the water to heat. When he stepped into the steaming spray, Dean breathed a sigh of relief as the hot water soothed his tense, aching muscles.

He heard his phone ringing on the counter as he turned off the shower several minutes later, but he ignored it. He didn't feel like talking to Bobby or any of his father's other hunting friends at the moment.

An ache started deep in his chest as he thought of his dad. It seemed as if John had been gone forever instead of only a few months. Even though he and his father had started hunting separately more and more as of late, the bond between them had still been strong. Knowing his father had given his life to save Dean's after the accident with the truck, well Dean wasn't sure the guilt would ever go away.

He sighed as he rubbed the thin, white motel towel over his hair before he dressed in sweats and a faded Metallica t-shirt. Tossing the towel over the rack haphazardly, Dean picked up his phone and glanced at the screen. He had three missed calls from the same number, one he didn't recognize. He did, however, know the area code. It was from Minnesota where his father had lived once upon a time about four or five years ago with a girlfriend, Laurie.

Dean frowned. He had a much younger half-brother, Samuel , that lived in Minnesota with Laurie. Although he had only seen Samuel once, worry bubbled in the pit of his stomach. The little three-year-old was still his brother.

Dean lifted the phone to his ear so that he could check his voicemail. "Mr. Winchester, this is Sabrina Adams from St. Paul Child Services. We have a Samuel Winchester here in our custody. His mother was killed in a car accident yesterday, and her will stated that should anything happen to her, you should be contacted."

Dean didn't hear the rest of the message. The phone slipped from his stunned fingers and clattered to the tile floor. His chest constricted and black dots danced before his eyes. His father was gone; Samuel's mother was dead; and he was the only one left in the world that cared even a tiny bit about what happened to his little brother.

Laurie's family had hated John Winchester and hadn't wanted anything to do with the child that was the product of their union. That left Dean. He ran a hand through his short hair and leaned against the bathroom counter until the dots that spotted his vision disappeared.

He had no idea what he was going to do next, but he did know that he couldn't leave Samuel in the custody of strangers. Moving toward the bedroom as if in a daze, Dean began to pack his things.

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.

Author's Note: Thanks to LadyWallace for the help and support!

_"__Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero." –Marc Brown_

Chapter 1

As Dean parked the Impala next to the curb across the street from the Child Services building, he took in the foreboding appearance of the weathered brick building. It looked as if too many years and even more budget cuts had taken their toll on the old red structure.

He leaned back against the cool leather of the driver's seat and left his hands clenched around the steering wheel. He savored the familiar smells and textures of the Impala. Dean felt the need to surround himself with the known just as he was about to plunge head first into the unknown.

Dean knew next to nothing about children except that he had been a child once. His mother's death and his father's driving need for revenge had caused him to grow up fast. The idea of raising a three-year-old terrified him more than hell's most evil demon.

Samuel Winchester, his father's pride and joy. Even though things between John Winchester and Laurie Buchanan hadn't worked out, John had loved and adored his son. He was forever mailing the little tyke things he saw that he thought Samuel would like and he visited whenever he had the chance.

Dean had only met his little brother once, soon after he had been born. He'd held the tiny bundle and wondered how you could hold something so tiny and delicate without breaking it. His dad had mailed sent him a picture of the moment in the mail, and Dean had tucked it into the Impala's glove compartment for safe keeping.

He reached for it now, fumbling past old gas station receipts to find the photo. He pulled it out and rested it on the steering wheel. In the photo, Dean was forcing a smile at the camera, but looked more like a deer caught in the headlights. Samuel was a red, squalling little bundle wrapped in a blue receiving blanket.

Dean sighed. What was he going to do with a child, and a little one at that? He glanced at his watch. It was five minutes to one, and he had promised to meet Sabrina Adams in her office at one o'clock. Sucking in a deep, calming breath, Dean placed the photo back into the glove compartment and exited the Impala, shutting the door firmly. His life would change forever once he entered this old brick building, and he knew for a fact that he wasn't ready.

Slowly, he trudged up the uneven brick steps and placed his hand on the cold, brass door handle before pulling the door open and stepping inside of an overly warm, slightly musty building. Glancing at the placard on the wall, he noted that Sabrina Adams' office was on the second floor.

Dean followed the narrow hallway until he found the elevators. He pressed the button and listened to the rattling of the doors opening before him. Stepping inside, he pressed the button for the second floor and watched it light up. His stomach twisted nervously and he wished more than anything that he was behind the wheel of the Impala driving down the open road.

Instead, he found himself entering a second floor waiting room and announcing his presence to a graying secretary with her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She peered at Dean through purple-rimmed glasses perched on a roman nose.

"Family of Samuel Winchester?" she asked in a very businesslike manner.

"Yes," Dean answered, his mouth suddenly feeling as dry as cotton.

She nodded. "Have a seat. I'll let Ms. Adams know you are here."

Dean shifted nervously in the uncomfortable mauve chair in the waiting room. The room was too hot and a tiny fan buzzed continuously on the secretary's desk. The pictures on the wall looked like the artwork he saw night after night in the cheap motel rooms he rented.

"Mr. Winchester?" A door had opened and a young woman stood there dressed in black slacks and a gray business-like sweater. Her long brown hair had been swept back from her face with a sliver clip. She looked over-worked and stressed.

Dean stood and wiped his hands nervously on his jeans before offering the woman one of them. "I'm Dean Winchester."

She shook it firmly. "Sabrina Adams. We spoke on the phone about Samuel. I have him with me now. Come on in."

This was it. Dean took in a deep breath and released it slowly before he stepped over the threshold and into Sabrina Adams' office. There, curled in a navy blue chair in the corner, was his little brother. The boy's head was topped with a mop of brown floppy hair that currently looked like it had a severe case of bedhead. Wary, red-rimmed eyes gazed at him from beneath a forehead that was wrinkled in a frown. A slightly too big sweatshirt hung on the boy's skinny frame and Dean could see that Samuel had something clutched tightly in his right hand.

"Samuel," Sabrina began softly, "your brother is here to take you home."

Dean watched as his little brother shrunk back even farther into the chair. He cleared his throat. "He hasn't seen me in a long time," he explained to the woman. "I doubt he remembers me."

He knelt down in front of the chair so that he wasn't towering over the frightened child. Dean's cheeks felt hot and his palms were sweaty. He was really out of his element here and had no idea what he was doing. "Hey, Sammy," he smiled. Samuel was a mouthful, and besides, the kid looked more like a Sammy than a Samuel.

The child didn't speak or smile; he just continued to stare at his big brother.

"Whatcha got there?" Dean nodded toward Sammy's hand as he spoke softly, much like someone would speak to a frightened animal.

Sammy studied his big brother carefully before he just barely held his pudgy fist in front of him. He opened up his hand to show a black car nestled there before he closed his fingers around it again and clutched it to his chest.

Dean's eyes lit up. Sammy had a black Impala in his hand. "Hey, Sammy, I bet our dad gave you that car."

Sammy's eyes widened and he nodded.

"Wanna know how I know?" Dean asked with a grin. Sam cocked his head to one side and Dean took that as a yes. "Dad used to have a big Impala like that, a real one. He gave it to me when I was old enough to drive."

Sammy's eyes held a hint of interest now and his attention was focused on his big brother.

"Do you want to ride in my black Impala?" Dean asked. "You're going to come and stay with me now."

The little boy's face quickly crumpled into a scowl. "I want Momma," he managed to gulp around a broken sob.

"I know you do," Dean managed as he felt his eyes began to burn with tears. He blinked them back and continued. "And I know you miss our Dad, but you can stay with me. I will take care of you and keep you safe." He may not have any clue what he was going to do, but he did know that little Sammy would be safe while in his care.

"I have his things here," Sabrina Adams murmured, pointing to the small, child-sized suitcase and two blue duffle bags in the corner. A cardboard box with the lid taped shut sat beside the bags. "Samuel's toys are in the box."

Dean nodded. "I can go load these in the car and come back for Sammy if that's all right with you."

She nodded, so Dean scooped the duffle bags up onto his shoulder before he hefted the suitcase and the cardboard box. "I'll be right back, Sammy," he told his little brother before he exited the small office.

When Dean returned a few minutes later, Sammy was still curled in the chair with the black toy car clutched in his fist. Moving to the window, Dean beckoned the little boy over. "You can see my car from here," he told the anxious tyke.

Sammy heaved a sigh and wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. The sleeve of his sweatshirt was used to wipe the snot from his nose.

Dean winced. "Dude, use a tissue."

Sammy just stared at him and wiped his nose with the sleeve once again.

"Here, Samuel." Sabrina handed the small boy a tissue. He stared at it a moment before taking it and half-heartedly wiping his nose with it.

Dean managed to sigh. All of the snot was already on the kid's shirt. He didn't really need the tissue anymore. "Your little car looks like my big car, Sammy. Come see."

Hesitantly, the little boy slid out of the chair and approached Dean carefully. Moving slowly so as not to spook him, Dean pointed to the street below. "See, there's my Impala."

Sammy pressed his nose against the cool window glass and stood on tiptoe to peer down into the street below.

Dean heard the boy's breath hitch when he spied the classic car. "Do you like her, Sammy?" He glanced down at his little brother and smiled when he caught the slight head nod. "Then are you ready to go ride in her?"

Sammy looked up at him this, his eyes wide and scared. He looked as if he was thinking about crying.

"All right, kiddo, how about if I carry you?" Dean asked softly.

Sammy considered this for a moment before he gave a slight nod.

Dean bent down and scooped the little boy up with one arm surprised at how light he was. Sammy gasped and one arm wrapped tightly over Dean's shoulder.

"You're a natural, Mr. Winchester. Are you sure you haven't been around children before?" Sabrina Adams asked.

"Kids usually take one look at me and run," Dean stated as he shifted Sammy to a more comfortable position.

"Do you need to borrow a booster seat for Samuel?" she asked him.

Dean looked a bit surprised. "Booster seat?" he echoed.

She nodded. "It's the law, Mr. Winchester."

"Then I guess I'll need to borrow one until tomorrow," Dean admitted, feeling lost with his little brother in his arms.

Sabrina found a booster seat and then followed Dean downstairs to show him how to install it in the Impala. Sammy stood behind Dean on the sidewalk gazing at his big brother's Impala even as he fingered the tiny car in his hand.

Dean finally turned to the child behind him. "You ready to roll, kiddo?" he asked.

Sammy nodded, so Dean lifted him up and awkwardly strapped him into the booster seat.

"It will get easier, Mr. Winchester," Sabrina assured him kindly.

Dean nodded. That was easy to say when you weren't the one becoming solely responsible for a child for the first time in your life. "Thank you for your help," he told her, nearly stumbling over the words as his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth.

"You are very welcome." Dean moved to turn away and Sabrina stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Mr. Winchester, your brother is going to need a lot of reassurance and care. He was in the car with his mother during the accident. He barely had a scratch on him, but I believe he watched his mother die before help arrived."

Dean nodded and swallowed hard around the lump that formed in his throat as he thought about the horror his little brother had suffered.

Sabrina leaned down so she could look into the car at Sammy. "Good luck, Samuel," she smiled as she waved at the youngest Winchester.

Sammy only stared back solemnly.

Dean moved to the driver's side and climbed into the Impala. He glanced over his shoulder to where Sam was strapped into the backseat. His belly churned and bile rose in his throat as he thought of the unknown stretching out before him. It would be so much easier to abandon Sammy to the system. Maybe, given Dean's lifestyle, it would even be the best choice for the child.

Dean shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. It was too much to take in right now. Over the next few days he would give the idea careful thought and consideration before making a decision that would affect the rest of Sammy's life.

It didn't take long to drive back to the hotel room he had rented, so Dean decided to stop at the diner across the street and pick up supper. He parked the Impala in a spot in the back of the lot and then walked around to the other side of the car to release Sammy from his booster seat. Dean reached for the little boy's hand, but Sammy snatched it away and backed toward the car until he was pressed against the shiny black Chevy.

Dean knelt down before his brother and raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What's up, Sammy?" he asked.

"Want Momma," the little boy muttered as tears welled in his eyes.

"I know you do, buddy," Dean sighed as he lifted Sammy and settled him on his hip. He could feel the child tense in his arms, but he didn't put him down. Sammy had lost everyone he loved and anything that had ever been familiar except the clothes and toys in his small bags. The little guy was allowed to feel scared and unsure of himself.

Dean ordered himself a burger and fries to go and a grilled cheese for Sammy at the suggestion of the waitress when his little brother clamped his mouth shut and refused to talk. Taking the bags when the food was ready, he trudged back to the car and buckled Sammy into the backseat. He figured they would have an early supper and then he would tackle giving his little brother a bath. The thought filled Dean with dread.

Sammy only nibbled on his grilled cheese even after Dean had a revelation and pulled the crusts off. He hadn't like them as a kid. Sammy ate a circle out of the middle of the sandwich and drank his milk. Then he silently pushed his toy car back and forth in front of him on the table.

Once Dean finished his food and cleaned up their trash, he moved to Sammy's bags and rifled through them until he found a faded pair of red and blue Spiderman pajamas. "All right, little brother, time for your bath."

Sammy's eyes snapped up toward Dean and his lips were set in a thin line. "No," he stated as his attention moved back to the car.

Dean's eyebrows nearly rose into his hairline. "It's bath time, Sammy. You can play with your car when you're all clean."

"No." This time Sammy didn't even look away from his toy.

Dean bit back a sigh as he went into the bathroom and began to run the boy's bathwater. He placed a folded towel on the sink within easy reach and placed Sammy's clothes next to it. Returning to the other room, he called his brother once again. "Come on, Sammy. Let's go."

"No," the little boy answered vehemently.

Unsure of what to do next, Dean walked toward Sammy. If the little boy was going to stay with him, at least for the time being, he had to learn to do as he was told. Dean knew their dad wouldn't have let Sammy talk back if he was around. "It's bath time," Dean announced once again. "You can play later." He reached over and grasped Sammy under the arms and lifted him up. Dean was unprepared for the kicking and screaming that began immediately and he nearly dropped the kid.

He hauled his flailing brother into the bathroom and wrestled him out of his clothes. It was like the three-year-old had suddenly grown an extra pair of arms and legs, and who knew a kid this size could be so strong. Dean grunted when Sammy elbowed him in the stomach and took a moment to rest with the boy held tightly in his arms once the last item of clothing had been removed.

He had no idea how he was going to get Sammy to stay in the bathtub, and he wished he had thought to look through Sammy's box of toys to see if there was anything in there that the child could play with in the tub.

Sucking in a fortifying breath, Dean stood and tried to place Sammy into the bath water. The screaming and kicking began once again. Dean couldn't believe how slippery a three-year-old was when wet. He had to work hard to hold Sammy in the tub with one arm while he hurriedly scrubbed using the washcloth with his free hand. Sammy's hair was washed in the same one-handed manner.

By the time Dean had finished washing Sammy, he wasn't sure how clean the child was, but Dean himself was soaking wet and exhausted. He wrapped the small boy in a towel as he lifted him from the tub and then sat on the toilet lid with Sammy in his lap. The little boy still had tears running down his cheeks and he hiccupped around a sob. Dean toweled the child's head of brown hair dry and then helped him into clean underwear and the Spiderman pajamas.

Sammy was still crying when he was finished, but now the tears were punctuated by giant yawns. Dean helped the little boy brush his teeth and then tucked him into the bed farthest from the door. He sat down on the bed beside the child and watched as Sammy curled into a ball beneath the blankets. Dean rubbed circles on the boy's back and was surprised when he didn't pull away.

"My car," Sammy sniffled in a raspy voice.

Dean glanced over to see the black Impala still on the table. "I'll get it, kiddo." He retrieved the car and handed it to his little brother who grasped it tightly in a pudgy fist as he burrowed under the covers once again. It didn't take him long to drift off to sleep after his tantrum at bath time.

Dean was exhausted. Without even cleaning up the bathroom or changing out of his wet clothes, he dropped onto the room's other bed and closed his eyes. He would rest for just a minute and then he would tidy up the giant mess in the bathroom and sort through Sammy's belongings. His body, however, had other ideas, and soon he was fast asleep.

To Be Continued…


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.

Author's Note: Special thanks to LadyWallace for the help and encouragement on this chapter. I was having a hard time finding my inner Dean.

"_Because brothers don't let each other wander in the dark alone." –Jolene Perry_

Chapter 2

Dean wasn't sure what woke him exactly. He didn't think he'd been asleep too long. His clothes still felt very damp and increasingly uncomfortable against his body. He shivered against a sudden gust of cold air that brushed his skin. It felt like the air conditioner was on. The sound of passing traffic was louder than it should be. Dean surged to a sitting position, his heart pounding in his chest.

The door to the motel room was open. He immediately looked to the room's other bed. It was empty. Sammy was gone.

Dean nearly threw himself out of bed. He stumbled to the door and threw it open. "Sammy!" His heart pounded almost painfully in his chest.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness outside of the motel room, he spied a small form huddled against the Impala's front tire. "Sammy?" he asked softly, trying not to scare his brother, "what are you doing out here?"

"I want Momma," the little boy sobbed brokenly, "and I had a bad dream."

Dean knelt beside his little brother. "It scared me when I woke up and you weren't in bed."

Sammy only sniffled and stared at Dean. Snot ran out of his nose and mingled with his tears.

"Let's go back in. It's cold out here." Dean stood and reached for his brother's hand.

"No, don't want to," the little boy spat petulantly.

It was late and Dean was tired. "That's not how you speak to grown-ups, Sammy." He took the child's hand and was somewhat prepared when the little boy began to struggle against his hold.

"I don't wanna go back in there. It's scary!" Sammy yelled as he threw himself against the side of the Impala.

Dean frowned. "Why's it scary?"

"'Cause I don't want my bad dream to come back," the three-year-old sniffled.

Dean sighed. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. "How about if I let you stay up a while and watch some cartoons?" Surely, he could find some cable channel with cartoons to occupy his little brother.

Sammy thought about this for a moment. "I don't have to go to sleep?" he queried anxiously.

"Not right now," Dean assured him, too tired to argue with the kid. "Maybe you can try again later when you aren't so scared. Will you come in now?"

Sammy considered the idea for a moment and then nodded slowly. He didn't take the hand his big brother offered, but did walk by Dean's side as they returned to the room.

Once inside with the door closed and locked behind them, Dean reached for the remote on the bedside table and flipped channels until he found an old Woody Woodpecker cartoon for Sammy. The little boy chewed his bottom lip nervously before crawling onto the room's other bed where he had been sleeping before. Dean watched him for a moment before he sat on the far side of his own bed and unlaced his boots. Tugging them off, he put them to the side. Then he slipped out of his wet clothes and dressed in sleep pants and an old faded t-shirt.

Sitting back on the bed with a groan, he scooted until he could relax against the headboard. Then he glanced over to check on his brother. Sammy, the Impala still clutched in once fist, had curled up with his head on a pillow as he watched the cartoon silently. His little face was drawn and sad.

Dean got up briefly to retrieve the laptop from the table, but immediately settled back in the same place on the bed. Sammy didn't move except to stick two fingers on his left hand into his mouth. He sucked on them contentedly and his eyes began to dip closed. Dean found himself mesmerized as the boy's long lashes dusted his pale cheeks. It was in that moment that Sammy's big brother caught a glimpse of his father in the child. Dean's heart ached. Wouldn't John have loved to be here having a sleepover with Sammy? John had always idolized the little boy and had called him every night when away on a hunt with Dean. In fact, John had made quite the effort to return to Minnesota often to see his youngest son.

Dean shook himself out of his reverie. John was gone, and Sammy had no one, no one except Dean himself who knew nothing about kids. He had no business thinking he could raise a three-year-old with the life he lived, yet at the same time he owed it to both Sammy and his father to try. Dean was caught between a rock and a hard place with no way out.

Sammy sighed from the other bed as he finally relaxed in slumber. His fingers hung slack in his mouth. Dean exhaled in relief and hoped that Sammy would manage to sleep through the night without any more nightmares. It had been a long day and he was exhausted; his body craved sleep. Dean shut down the laptop and placed it beside him on the bed before he turned the volume down on the television, deciding to leave it on in case Sammy woke up.

Dean must have fallen asleep because a shrill scream jolted him from a sound sleep. A sobbing voice shouted, "Momma! Momma!"

"Sammy!" Dean nearly fell out of his bed as he stumbled the few feet to the bed his little brother slept in.

"Don't go, Momma! Don't go! It's bad, Momma. So bad," Sammy continued to cry. His entire body was rigid as Dean grasped his shoulder and began to gently try to shake him awake.

"Sammy, it's just a dream," Dean soothed. He had no idea what to say to a terrified little boy who was caught in the midst of a nightmare. "Wake up now, kiddo."

Sammy began to fight against Dean's touch and nearly choked on a sob. Then, suddenly, he blinked his eyes open and seemed to realize that someone was sitting beside him. "Momma?" he whispered hopefully.

"It's Dean, Sammy," his big brother told him as a now familiar ache started in his chest. He hated to see the three-year-old suffer, but he didn't know how to ease the child's pain. There was no relief from the grief of losing of a parent. Dean still hadn't recovered from John's death, so how could he help a small child understand why his mother was no longer here to care for him and love him? The world seemed such a cruel, cold place to Dean when innocent little boys like Sammy had to suffer.

Broken hearted cries began then, and Sammy pulled away from his brother and scooted to the far side of the bed as far away from Dean as he could get. "I want Momma," the boy sobbed.

Dean ran a frustrated hand through his short hair. "I know you do, Sammy, but you can't come back once you go to heaven. Your Momma is gone now."

The little boy cried even harder at Dean's words and the older Winchester inwardly cursed at himself for saying them out loud. "Do you want to watch some more cartoons?"

Sammy wails only intensified. He turned his back to Dean and flopped onto the bed burying his face in the pillow. Dean reached out and touched his shoulder once, but Sammy only whined and pulled away.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, I'll be right over here on my bed if you need me, dude. Okay?" he told his brother awkwardly. When there was no answer, he bit back a sigh and crawled beneath the blankets of his own bed.

It took a while, but Sammy's cries finally tapered off to sniffles and whimpers. Dean stared at the cartoons on the television screen without really seeing them. Tomorrow was getting terrifyingly closer, and he had no idea what to do with the three-year-old across the room from him.

Dean shifted down onto the pillows and burrowed into the blankets. He was exhausted in mind and body, but sleep refused to come. He could still hear the faint sniffles from across the room and the soft drone of the TV.

Dean must have dozed off at some point. He opened his eyes to the ringing of his cell phone and the early morning sunlight peeking through the motel's dingy curtains. He grabbed the phone off of the bedside table, hoping to keep it from waking Sammy. "Hello," he answered, his voice still gravely from sleep. He glanced over to the other bed to see Sammy shifting restlessly beneath the covers.

"Dean, have you heard about Laurie?" Bobby Singer's worried voice crackled over the static in the line.

"Uh, yeah," Dean cleared his throat and anxiously watched his little brother poke his tussled brown head out from under the covers and rub his eyes sleepily with a pudgy fist.

"Where's Samuel, Dean?" Bobby asked. John had taken his youngest son to see the hunter from time to time, and Bobby had developed a soft spot for the little boy.

"I have him with me," Dean yawned, as he ran his hand over the scruff that covered his jawline.

"Dean, what in the world are you going to do with a kid?" Bobby sighed.

"I don't know, Bobby," the older Winchester brother answered, "but I'm all he's got.

"I could ask around, find someone who'd take him," the older hunter offered hesitantly.

Dean bit his lip. The thought of being free of the responsibility was tempting, but this was his brother, his flesh and blood. His father would want him to keep Sammy with him.

The little boy chose that moment to turn and blink sleepily at Dean.

The older Winchester forced a smile for his brother's sake. "I don't think that's a good idea right now, Bobby," Dean answered. "I can tell you more later, but the kid's right here in the room with me. I can't really talk about it."

"Ah, okay," the other hunter answered. "Well, why don't you bring him here and stay with me a few days? It will at least give you a chance to figure out what you're going to do next. You can't very well keep hunting and raise a kid."

"My dad did it," Dean argued as Sammy climbed out of bed and padded into the bathroom.

"Can you honestly tell me that's the childhood you would have chosen for yourself?" Bobby asked pointedly.

Dean sighed. "No one's childhood is perfect, and I would have picked my dad hands down over anyone else."

"Yeah, I know," Bobby admitted honestly. "So, should I prepare the guest room?"

Dean bit his bottom lip as he thought things over. Sammy flushed the toilet and he could hear the water running as the kid washed his hands. Dean had never felt more lost in his life. "Sure, Bobby. We'll head out after breakfast. I'll call you and let you know what time to expect us."

After ending the phone call, Dean spoke as his little brother exited the bathroom. "Time to get ready, kiddo. We're gonna go see Bobby." He watched as his little brother's eyes lit up at the sound of the older hunter's name.

"He had cookies," Sam remembered quietly.

Dean felt a smile quirk the corners of his mouth. "When I call him back in a little bit we'll ask him if he has any more cookies. How's that?"

Sammy nodded so hard that his brown bangs flopped up and down on his forehead.

The older Winchester felt like he had made a tiny connection to his brother just then. He watched as Sammy scurried to find the toy Impala.

Dean rummaged through his duffle bag while Sammy played and found a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. "I'll be right back, Sammy. I'm going to take a shower. Don't go anywhere." He made sure the chain was on the door before he entered the bathroom.

Dean exited the bathroom after a quick shower to find that Sam had procured more cars from his box of toys and was quietly pushing them around on the bed while cartoons hummed on the television in the background. Dean tossed the towel back into the bathroom and then found a clean outfit for Sam in the little suitcase. Dean knew he was going to have to do laundry when he got to Bobby's.

"Come get dressed so we can go to breakfast," he called to his brother.

Sammy left the cars on the bed and scurried to Dean.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Dean asked as he wrestled the pajamas over Sammy's head and inwardly cursed the designer that didn't make the neck hole bigger.

The little boy didn't answer although his tummy rumbled hungrily.

"Do you like cereal?"

Still no response.

"How about pancakes?"

Sammy fought to get his arms through the holes in his shirt. Dean finally let go and let the kid do it himself. He felt like he was hindering him more than helping him.

As soon as Sam was dressed, Dean brushed his brother's hair and helped him wash his face. "All set for breakfast?" he finally asked.

Sammy nodded and allowed Dean to take his hand and lead him across the street to the busy diner. They settled in a booth by the windows and Sammy slouched in the seat across from his brother.

Dean perused the menu and easily chose what he wanted for breakfast. Now to figure out what to order for Sammy. "Okay, kiddo, what do you want to eat?" He pushed the menu forward on the table so that his little brother could see it. "They have pancakes, eggs, waffles, sausage, or we can even order you cereal."

Sammy worried his bottom lip with his teeth, but stayed silent.

Dean bit back a sigh. He had done that a lot over the last twenty four hours. "Do you like pancakes, Sammy?"

The child nodded.

"How about chocolate milk?"

The kid nodded again.

"All right, dude, that's what I'm ordering you. Speak up now if that's not what you want."

When Sammy didn't respond, Dean blew a sigh through his lips. He couldn't wait to get to Bobby's. Maybe Bobby would know how to handle his kid brother.

To Be Continued…


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Merry Christmas!

Not Without My Brother

Chapter 3

Dean was beginning to think the drive to Bobby's house would never end. After leaving the motel, they had stopped to buy a booster seat. Dean had returned the borrowed one to its rightful owner and they had finally hit the road heading toward Singer Salvage. Sammy had fallen asleep once they'd reached the interstate, but his little nap had only lasted about a half an hour. He'd been whining ever since.

Dean had already stopped once to get the toy cars out of the box in the trunk and twice so Sammy could use the bathroom and get a drink. At this rate, they'd never get to Bobby's. A moan from the backseat drew Dean's attention, and he looked into the rearview mirror. "You okay back there, Sammy?" he asked in concern.

The only answer was another moan, only this one sounded much more miserable than the first.

Dean frowned. Another glance in the mirror and he realized his little brother looked decidedly green. "Don't you puke in my car, kid," he grumbled as he tried to maneuver through traffic so that he could pull over to the side of the road.

Just as Dean finally pulled the car to a stop in the dust on the side of the road, Sammy vomited all over himself and the backseat of the beloved Impala. Dean groaned as he climbed out of the driver's seat. He hurried around the car and snatched open the backdoor, nearly gagging when the smell of the vomit assaulted his nostrils.

Sammy was crying hysterically, and his sobs only intensified at the horrified look on Dean's face. "I'm sorry," he moaned. "I didn't mean to."

Dean groaned at the sight of the vomit that covered his brother and the backseat of the car. "Sammy, why didn't you tell me you were gonna be sick?" he sighed.

His little brother gagged once again and Dean swore under his breath. "Okay, first let's get you out of the car." Carefully, Dean unstrapped the three-year-old from the booster seat and lifted him out of the car. "Sit right here by my feet and don't move," he instructed as he removed the booster seat and placed it on the ground beside Sammy.

"Do you feel like you're going to throw up again?" he asked the sniffling little boy.

Sammy shook his head in the negative, so Dean decided it would be okay to change him into clean clothes. It took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to get Sammy's shirt off without getting any vomit in the child's hair. He dressed his brother in clean clothes and threw the dirty ones in a plastic bag and tied it up tight. That was going to smell to high heaven when they got to Bobby's. Maybe he'd just throw the whole bag away and not worry about cleaning it.

Dean cleaned the booster seat and the backseat of the car the best he could with an old towel and bottled water. He'd do a better job of it once they reached their destination. With a heavy sigh, he returned Sammy's seat to the car and reached for his little brother.

The child was still sniffling. Dean found a clean paper towel and dampened it with water from a bottle before he wiped Sammy's clammy, flushed face. "Do you still feel sick?"

"A little," the little boy admitted.

Dean buckled him into his booster seat and rummaged in the trunk until he found a plastic grocery bag. He returned to the door beside his brother. "If you feel sick again, vomit in this." He handed the bag to the three-year-old who stared at him with wide eyes.

When he finally pulled back onto the road, Dean felt the tension settle between his shoulder blades. They should have already arrived at Bobby's. The older hunter was going to be worried.

When they finally pulled into Singer Salvage an hour later, Sammy had vomited into the bag two more times. Bobby opened the door and stepped outside as soon as Dean turned off the Impala's engine.

"What in blue blazes took you so long to get here?" he ranted as he moved toward the shiny black car.

Dean sighed. "Apparently Sammy gets car sick."

Bobby tugged open the backdoor and frowned at the youngest Winchester. Sammy held the bag of vomit in his lap. His nose was running and tears trickled down his cheeks. "Hey, kiddo," Bobby said softly. "Let's get you inside and all cleaned up. I bet that will help you feel better."

Sammy nodded and allowed Bobby to lift him out of the car and carry him inside.

Dean retrieved the duffle bags and Sammy's suitcase from the trunk and sat them in Bobby's kitchen before he returned to his car. He scrubbed the backseat to remove any traces of vomit. He checked the floor of the car meticulously with a flashlight, but didn't see anything on the carpet. Next he scrubbed Sammy's booster seat and put it on the porch so that it could dry overnight.

With a tired sigh, he entered the house and hefted their bags into his arms before trudging slowly up the stairs. He dropped his duffle in one room and Sammy's things in another. Then he dug his brother's pajamas out of the small suitcase and took them to the bathroom. He could hear Bobby talking to the youngest Winchester through the closed bathroom door.

"Let's get your hair washed, little man, and then you'll be all clean. Does your stomach feel better now?"

"Yes," Sammy answered quietly. "The car made my tummy feel sick."

"That happens to some people," Bobby explained in a matter of fact tone.

"Does Dean hate me?" the little boy sniffled.

"Why would Dean hate you?" the hunter asked in surprise.

"'Cause I threw up in his car," the child wailed, crying once again.

"Your brother doesn't hate you," Bobby sighed. "Everyone gets sick sometimes."

Dean heard the water begin to drain out of the tub. His heart thudded in his chest. Had he made Sammy think he hated him? He didn't think so; he hadn't really become too angry over the vomit in his car. A frown marred his handsome face.

The bathroom door opened then. Bobby had Sam in his arms wrapped tightly in a fluffy bath towel.

Dean held out the pajamas. "I thought you might need these."

"Thanks," Bobby replied, taking them and Sammy into one of the spare bedrooms, the room containing the boy's belongings. Dean stood in the doorway and watched as he helped the little boy into the soft jammies before tucking him into bed. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat?" the older hunter asked him.

Sammy shook his head. "My tummy isn't hungry," he sighed.

"All right." Bobby tucked the blankets around him tightly. "Your brother and I will be downstairs. You just call if you need us."

Sammy nodded and burrowed down under the covers.

Dean allowed Bobby to lead the way downstairs into the kitchen.

"You hungry?" Bobby asked.

"Starved," Dean replied. He watched as Bobby began pulling sandwich fixings from the refrigerator. "So, uh, why would Sammy think that I hate him?" he asked hesitantly.

Bobby glanced up as he sliced a tomato. "Did you yell at him when he puked?"

"What? No, I didn't yell at him." Dean's voice took on a defensive tone.

"Well, what did you say?" Bobby asked. "Maybe it was something about how you reacted."

Dean thought back carefully. "I noticed he didn't look good and told him not to puke in my car. When he did, I asked him why he didn't tell me he was going to be sick."

Bobby sighed. "Dean, I imagine that kid is scared to death right now. You are virtually a stranger to him, and he hasn't seen me in a long time. Probably doesn't remember me much. When kids are scared and sick, they like to be hugged and comforted. Samuel probably doesn't know what to think."

Dean wrinkled his nose as he smeared mayonnaise over a slice of bread. "He doesn't look like a Samuel. I've been calling him Sammy."

Bobby quirked an eyebrow. "Your father always called him Samuel."

Dean shrugged. "I know, but I'm his big brother. It's my duty to give him a nickname."

Bobby chuckled. "Suppose that's true."

The men finished building their sandwiches in companionable silence and then moved to the cluttered kitchen table to enjoy them. Bobby produced a bag of potato chips from the cabinet and placed it in the middle of the table.

Dean dumped a pile of them onto his plate and began to crunch them happily.

"So," Bobby began after he'd taken a bite of his sandwich and swallowed, "what are you going to do with Samuel…Sammy?"

Dean shrugged. "I'll keep him with me for now."

"And then pass him off to someone else when you get tired of lugging him around?" Bobby asked pointedly.

"I didn't say that," Dean defended around a bite of turkey sandwich. "I just think he's been through a lot and needs family right now. Maybe once he's better it will be time to find him a more permanent place to stay."

Bobby sighed. "Dean, you're just giving Sammy and yourself time to get attached. It's going to hurt you both more in the long run."

"My dad would want Sammy with me right now," Dean argued, managing to keep his voice low so that he didn't wake his brother.

"Well, if you're gonna keep him with you then you need to start meeting the kid's emotional needs as well as his physical needs. I know your father used a lot of tough love as you were growing up, but Sammy isn't you, Dean. He's got a soft heart, and he's scared. He needs someone to hold him and tell him everything is going to be all right."

Bobby finished off his sandwich as Dean pondered what the older hunter had said. "I'm going to take a shower, Dean, and then head to bed. I'll see you and Sammy in the morning."

"Goodnight, Bobby. Thanks for letting us stay," Dean told him honestly. He leaned back in his chair once Bobby had disappeared up the stairwell and stared at the kitchen wall as he thought about the little boy upstairs that was depending on him. Dean didn't know anything about raising a kid, and he wasn't sure how good of a father figure he could be to Sammy. All he knew was that he owed it to his father to try.

The screams started just as he was putting his glass in the sink. He nearly dropped it in his haste to get upstairs to dispel his little brother's nightmare. He took the steps two at a time, but found that Bobby had beaten him to Sammy's room. The hunter sat on the bed with the little boy in his lap. Sammy sobbed loudly into Bobby's chest.

Dean approached cautiously. "Is he all right?"

"Whatever he dreamed about scared the tar of out him," Bobby murmured as he rubbed soothing circles on the youngest Winchester's back.

Dean swallowed hard. Sammy's sobs were gut-wrenching.

Bobby stood and handed the boy off to Dean. "You take him, and I'll go downstairs and warm some milk. My mom used to give it to me after I'd had a nightmare."

Dean nodded mechanically and reached out his arms to accept his little brother. Sammy's small body was shaking like a leaf as Dean tucked him into his arms. "It's okay, Sammy," he murmured as he felt small hands clutch onto his t-shirt like it was a lifeline. Sobs rolled through the boy's body one after another.

Dean began to walk slowly around the bedroom; he rubbed circles on Sam's back just as Bobby had done as he tried to soothe his brother. As he walked, his thoughts wandered. As a small boy just a little older than Sammy, he'd watched his mother die. Now the same thing had happened to his little brother although his mother had died in a different fashion. Dean knew the pain his little brother felt; he'd experienced it himself. His arms tightened around the small form he held. "I've got you, Sammy. You're safe now."

"I told Momma not to go," a little voice quivered in Dean's ear.

He pulled back to look into his brother's flushed face and reached out to brush disheveled brown bangs out of Sammy's eyes. "You told Momma not to go where, Sammy?"

"I told her we couldn't go to the store, but she went anyway. I tried to stop her."

Dean's heart ached for the child in his arms. "Sammy, your mom probably needed stuff from the store, and you didn't know anything bad was going to happen."

"Yes, I did," the little boy sniffled. "I saw it."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean you saw it, kiddo?"

"I have dreams," Sammy admitted. "I saw it in my dream, but Momma didn't listen." He buried his face in Dean's shoulder and sobbed.

Dean stood frozen in place with his hand cradling the back of Sammy's head. "You mean you saw it in your dream just now?"

"No, I saw it before Mommy died. I tried to stop her." The sobs intensified.

Was the child insinuating that he had visions of the future? What would that mean for Sammy? Dean really needed to talk to Bobby, but right now his little brother needed to come first.

"Let's go wash your face, Sammy," Dean choked out even as his heart was racing and his mind whirled, "and then we'll go down to the kitchen. Bobby is making you some warm milk."

Sammy nodded against Dean's neck as he held on tightly to his big brother.

To Be Continued…


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.

Chapter 4

Dean settled in a kitchen chair and arranged Sammy in his lap. The little boy leaned against his big brother's chest and stuck two fingers into his mouth. He sniffled around them and watched as Bobby shuffled around the kitchen preparing the milk.

Dean held the warm little body against him as his mind continued to whirl. Had Sammy really had a dream or a vision of his mother's death? Had he had these visions of anything else or had it been a solitary event? Sammy was so upset right now that Dean didn't want to ask him about things and make it worse. The little boy nearly gagged on another sob and turned to press his face into Dean's shirt.

"Here you go, Samuel," Bobby said soothingly as he placed a glass of warm milk on the table in front of the Winchester boys.

Dean gently tugged Sammy's fingers from his mouth and helped him lift the heavy glass of warm milk to his lips. The child sipped slowly, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed. Dean assumed it was from all of the crying he'd done.

When Sammy finished the milk, Dean stood with Sammy on his hip and deposited the empty glass in the sink. "Okay, time to brush your teeth," Dean told his little brother.

Sammy sighed and then his eyes widened. "My car!"

Dean blinked in surprise. "It's probably upstairs in your bed."

Sammy squirmed to get down and Dean nearly dropped him. As soon as his feet hit the floor, Sammy ran upstairs toward the bedroom. Bobby and Dean followed him at a slower pace.

"Bobby, I need to talk to you about something Sammy said," Dean began hesitantly.

Before he could say anymore, Sammy appeared at the top of the steps with his eyes full of tears. "My car's gone," he moaned. "I lost my 'Pala."

"Me and Dean will help you look for it, kiddo," Bobby smiled as he ruffled Sammy's messy brown hair.

Sam's only response was to gulp a sob.

Bobby lifted Sammy into his arms and carried him to his room. Dean followed and as soon as they arrived he began to search beneath the sheets and then looked under the bed. There was no tiny black Impala.

"Mommy!" Sammy wailed. "Daddy…" his voice trailed off in broken cries and he buried his face in Bobby's shoulder.

"We have to find the car." Bobby gave Dean a pointed look.

The eldest Winchester brother bit back a sigh, but nodded. Sammy had lost his parents and everything that was familiar. Dean needed to find that car. He just hoped they hadn't lost it on the side of the road when they stopped to clean up Sammy's vomit.

Dean surprised himself by reaching out to smooth his brother's hair. "I'm gonna go look in the car, Sammy. You stay in here with Bobby where it's warm."

Dean found the flashlight in the kitchen and headed outside in the frosty air. His breath formed a cloud as he breathed and he realized that winter would soon be upon them. Sammy would celebrate his fourth birthday next week and then the next month would be Christmas. Dean realized with a start that he would have a child at Christmas this year.

Reaching the Impala, Dean opened the backdoor and searched the backseat and the floor carefully with the flashlight. There was no sign of the toy car. Getting down on his hands and knees, he searched the ground beneath the car without any luck.

Finally, Dean began retracing his and Bobby's earlier steps across the yard. It was hard looking for a black car in the grass at night. Dean felt as if it was a fruitless search, but then he thought of Sammy's tear-streaked face and kept looking. Finally, forty five minutes after beginning his search, the flashlight glinted off of something shiny. A grin nearly split his face in two. It was the Impala. He reached for it and sighed with relief when he had the cold metal in his grasp. His little brother was going to be so excited.

Dean leapt up the porch steps and bounded into the kitchen. Bobby was pacing the floor with a still wailing Sammy. The older hunter was beginning to look frazzled. "Look what I found, Sammy!" Dean called out.

Sammy lifted his tear-stained face from Bobby's shoulder. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the small shiny car in his brother's out-stretched hand. "You found my car!" he gasped. Instead of reaching for just the car, he held both arms out to his brother.

Dean was surprised, but reached out and took the almost-four-year-old in his arms. Sammy took the car from his brother's grasp and then wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. "Thank you, Dean," he sighed against the skin of the older Winchester's neck.

Dean felt his heart clench at the child snuggled against him. It had been years since anyone had embraced him so freely. "Anytime, Sammy," he murmured around the lump that had formed in his throat. "Let's get you back to bed now. It's late."

Sammy nodded against him and yawned. "I'm tired."

Dean sat down on the bed and tucked his little brother in beneath the covers. He watched as Sammy clutched his beloved Impala in one fist and stuffed two fingers of his free hand into his mouth. His eyes drooped closed almost immediately.

When the child's breathing evened out, Bobby motioned for Dean to follow him. The two men retreated downstairs to the kitchen.

"So, what was it you needed to talk to me about?" Bobby asked as he settled into his favorite chair at the table with a mug of coffee.

Dean poured his own cup and joined the older hunter at the table. "I think Sammy had a vision or a dream about his mother's death before the car accident."

Bobby leaned forward in his chair and pushed his coffee to the side. "What makes you think that?" he asked with a frown.

"Sammy said he begged his mother not to go, but that she didn't listen to him. When I said that she probably had groceries to get and it wasn't his fault, Sammy said that he knew she was going to die." Dean cradled his mug in is hands. "What do you think?"

Bobby leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "You and I both know that anything is possible, even things that sound extraordinary." He absently reached for his coffee mug and took a sip. "We need to talk to Samuel a bit more, find out details and if he's had any other of these so-called visions."

Dean ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Why is it always my family, Bobby? Why can't things just be normal for us for once?"

"That's just the way it is, Dean. It's a Winchester curse, I guess." Bobby sighed. "We'll try to get Samuel to talk more about it tomorrow."

"I hate to drag up bad memories for him," Dean admitted. "Doesn't seem right."

"No, no, it doesn't, but we need to know what we're dealing with here," Bobby explained. "We'll wait for the right opportunity. Samuel is bound to mention his mom at some point tomorrow or the next day. Then we'll bring it up."

Dean nodded and stood to empty the rest of his coffee into the sink. "I'm going to take a shower and turn in. It's been a long day."

"Goodnight," Bobby yawned as he downed the final swig of his coffee.

Dean stood in shower a long time allowing the hot water to soothe his tired muscles. When he finally turned off the water and stepped out of the tub, the small bathroom was full of steam. Dean dressed in sleep pants and a white t-shirt and then tugged open the bathroom door.

Quietly, he padded barefoot into Sammy's room. The little boy was curled up in a ball. He had removed his fingers from his mouth, but the Impala was still clutched tightly in his fist. Carefully, Dean tucked the covers beneath his brother's chin and brushed the brown bangs back from Sammy's eyes. "Night, kiddo," he whispered before heading to his own room.

Hours later when Dean felt something tugging on his arm, he immediately tensed and reached for the knife he kept beneath his pillow when Sammy's small voice stopped him.

"Dean, I don't feel good. My throat hurts."

The elder Winchester scrubbed sleepily at his eyes. He yawned and pushed to a sitting position before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, surprised when Sammy moved forward to lean against his knees. "Does anything else hurt besides your throat?" Dean asked his little brother.

"My nose is stuffy and my head hurts." Sammy's voice sounded scratchy and nasally.

Dean lifted the little boy up to the bed beside him and pressed his hand to Sammy's forehead. "You do feel a little warm. Come on. Let's see if Uncle Bobby has a thermometer in the bathroom." He stood and then realized Sammy wasn't following him. He turned on the bedside lamp to see Sammy with flushed cheeks looking sad and miserable. Stifling a sigh, Dean walked back to the bed and lifted his brother into his arms. Sammy buried his head into Dean's shoulder with a sigh.

Rubbing his brother's back in soothing circles, Dean carried him into the bathroom and rummaged around in the medicine cabinet until he found a thermometer. It was the old-fashioned thermometer, the kind you had to hold under your tongue. Dean sat on the toilet seat and settled Sammy in his lap.

"You can't bite down on this, Sammy. It's going to tell us if you have a fever. Now, put it under your tongue and close your mouth." It took a bit of maneuvering on Dean's part, but he finally got his brother to understand what to do with the thermometer. When he pulled it out of the child's mouth, he frowned. "One hundred point one," he sighed.

Sammy sniffled and wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand before he pressed his face into Dean's chest. "I want Momma," he sighed around a whimper.

Dean ran a hand over the boy's messy brown hair. "I know, kiddo, but you've got me. I'll do my best to take care of you." He stood and settled Sammy on his hip. "Let's get you back to bed."

The boy sniffled again. "Can I stay with you, Dean?"

The older Winchester sighed. "Just for tonight," he agreed, "but you have to sleep."

Sammy nodded and wiped at his nose again. "I will."

"Dude, stop that!" Dean grimaced. "Let's find a tissue."

After helping his little brother wipe his nose and retrieving the toy Impala from the other bed, Dean settled Sammy into bed next to him. The three-year-old curled into a ball and burrowed into his big brother's side. He immediately tucked two fingers into his mouth and sucked on them as his eyes drifted closed.

Dean shifted until he found a comfortable position and listened to his little brother's snuffly breathing until he drifted off to sleep. Sammy's coughing started in the wee hours of the morning.

Dean was startled into wakefulness as Sammy sat up in bed and coughed so hard he nearly choked. "You okay, buddy?" he asked the little boy as he awkwardly reached over to pat his back.

"I can't….I can't stop coughing." Sammy coughed until his eyes watered and he was gagging.

A seed of worry began to grow in Dean's gut. "Okay, kiddo, come on." Dean lifted his brother and carried him downstairs. He knew the coughing was going to wake Bobby, but he didn't see how that could be helped. "Maybe a drink of water will help."

Dean placed his brother in one of the kitchen chairs and reached into the cabinet for a glass. He filled it with water and knelt beside Sammy's chair, helping the little boy hold it to his lips.

Sammy drank slowly, stopping to cough before he finished the glass. He began to gag and spit up all the water he'd just had in his lap. Huge tears welled in his eyes and he began to cry.

Just as Dean began to panic, Bobby appeared in the kitchen doorway with a huge yawn. "What in blue blazes is going on in here?"

"Sammy's sick," Dean explained as he grabbed some paper towels and began to clean up his little brother.

"Sounds like a nasty cold," Bobby frowned as he pressed a hand to Sammy's forehead. "Did you take his temperature?"

Dean nodded. "One hundred point one."

Bobby moved to the counter to start some coffee. "I'll have my coffee and then I'll run to the store and get some children's cold medicine."

"Do I need to take him to the hospital?" Dean asked as he eyes roved over his little brother's miserable face.

Bobby shook his head. "It's just a cold, Dean. Nothing a little rest and Children's Tylenol won't cure."

Dean looked relieved. "Are you sure?"

Bobby nodded. "I watched your daddy doctor you many a time. He will be fine."

Sammy sniffled and reached for his brother. "I want Momma, Dean."

The older Winchester lifted his kid brother and held him close. "You'll feel better after Bobby brings you some medicine, Sammy."

The little boy sighed and buried his face into his brother's neck. His coughing had subsided for the moment leaving him worn out.

"I'm going to take him into the other room and stretch out on the couch," Dean told their friend.

Bobby nodded. "I'll be back with some medicine as soon as I can."

Dean stretched out on the couch and snuggled Sammy alongside him. The small boy rested his head on Dean's shoulder and clutched his brother's t-shirt. It didn't take long for him to drift off to sleep.

Dean soon followed him; he didn't get much sleep the night before. He wasn't asleep for long before Sammy began to thrash and moan against him.

"Momma," the little boy groaned, his face contorted in horror. "No, Momma! No, Momma, you're gonna die!" Sammy sat up with a scream and rolled off of the couch, his little body hitting the floor with a thud.

To Be Continued…


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke.

Chapter 5

Dean jolted to his feet and reached for his little brother. Sam wailed and clung to him, his small fists twisting tightly into the fabric of Dean's t-shirt. "Sh, Sammy," he murmured. "It was just a dream. Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

"Momma," the little boy sniffled. "I want Momma. Why won't she come back? Doesn't she love me anymore?"

Dean choked the words out past the lump in his throat. "Your Momma loved you so very much, Sammy, and she didn't want to leave you. Her body was hurt too badly in the car accident, so she had to go to heaven."

"When can she come back from heaven?" Sammy asked as his fingers continued to twist in Dean's shirt.

"You can't come back from heaven, Sammy. Heaven is forever." Dean's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You're going to live with me now, remember? I'm going to take care of you."

Sammy coughed and rubbed at his face. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled over down his cheeks. He pressed his overly warm face against Dean's neck and heaved a quivering sigh.

"I know, buddy," Dean soothed. He heard the car door slam and Bobby entered the back door with a plastic bag in his hand.

The hunter poked his head around the living room door with a concerned frown on his face. "How's he doing?"

"Another nightmare," Dean sighed. "He fell off of the couch."

"I got some medicine and a newer thermometer," Bobby entered the living room and held the bag out to Dean.

Dean took it and pulled out the bottle of red children's medicine. He read the dosage label carefully.

Sam eyed him warily. "No medicine, Dean! It's yucky!"

"It will help you feel better, Sammy," Dean assured him.

With tears still drying on his cheeks, Sammy squirmed down from Dean's lap and scrambled behind the chair in the corner of the living room.

Bobby bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as Dean looked bewildered.

"Sammy, come here so I can give you your medicine," the older Winchester called.

"No!" Sammy croaked, his voice scratchy from his cold.

Dean bit back a sigh and carefully poured the correct amount of cold medicine into the tiny plastic cup that had come in the package. "It's only a swallow, dude. You'll barely taste it."

"No!" his little brother bellowed from behind Bobby's favorite chair.

Dean left the medicine on the coffee table and got to his knees as he peered behind the chair at his brother. "Come on, Sammy, it won't taste bad."

"Yes, it does," Sammy sniffled. "Momma made me take that kind."

"Then you can take it for me, too," Dean nearly pleaded.

"No, you won't do it like Momma did it." The child sounded as if he was going to break into another round of gut-wrenching sobs.

"How did your momma do it, kiddo?" Bobby asked softly as he joined Dean on the floor, taking pity on the elder Winchester who looked totally at a loss.

"She gave me crackers after I swallowed the yucky medicine and she held me and sang to me." Sammy's voice wobbled. "I want Momma."

"I'll go find some crackers," Bobby told Dean as he placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder and used it as leverage to push to his feet with a grunt.

Dean was still focused on his little brother. "If Uncle Bobby brings you the crackers, will you take the medicine?"

A little tear-stained face peered around the side of the chair. "Will you sing to me?"

Dean felt a knot form in his gut at the forlorn look on Sammy's face. "I can't sing," he protested.

"Please?" the little boy sniffled.

Dean wavered for only a moment. "I suppose I could try."

Bobby returned to the living room then. "All right, Sammy, I have your crackers!" He placed a paper towel with three crackers on top down on the coffee table.

Sammy crawled slowly out from behind the chair, his face pinched with worry. He looked up at Dean. "Can I sit in your lap?"

Mechanically, Dean nodded and retreated to the couch where Sammy crawled into his lap and leaned back against his chest. The small boy's protest had taken a lot out of him, and now he was exhausted. Dean held the cup of medicine to his lips.

"Can I hold one of the crackers?" Sammy whined.

Dean handed him one and then repositioned the cup at his lips. Sammy drank it and then shoved a cracker into his mouth quickly followed by another one.

"Good job," Dean soothed as Sam rested against him sleepily.

"Now sing," Sammy demanded as he curled against his big brother.

Dean thought for a moment as he tried to decide on a song. Finally, he settled on the one his mother had sung to him when he was small. He began to sing the words to "Hey, Jude" softly.

Sammy sighed and relaxed against him, rosy cheek resting against his brother's chest. It didn't take long for the small boy to fall asleep.

Dean held him close and was unable to resist brushing a kiss to his forehead, just to check his fever he told himself.

"He can sleep down here on the couch," Bobby spoke up from his place in the doorway. "That way we'll be closer if he needs something."

Dean nodded and settled Sammy on the end of the couch before covering him with a blanket. "He looks so little," he mused out loud.

Bobby nodded and moved to stand at Dean's side. "Yeah, but he's a Winchester. He's tough. It's just going to take him a little while to adjust as long as you don't break his heart."

Dean turned and gave Bobby a sharp look. "I'll do what's best for him," he argued.

"See that you do," Bobby replied. "Kid deserves it." The older hunter retreated into the kitchen while Dean stood in the living room a while longer and watched his little brother sleep.

A sick Sammy ended up being a whiny, clingy Sammy. Dean discovered that his little brother wanted to be held and cuddled almost constantly until his fever broke two days later. The little boy's favorite place to be was in Dean's lap with a well-loved book. Sammy only had a small collection, so Dean read them over and over again. Then they resorted to looking at pictures in some of the books Bobby had that could pass as suitable for children's eyes. Dean decided that Sammy would be getting some new books for his birthday in a few days.

Once Sammy was well again, Dean left him with Bobby for an afternoon so that he could run into town and purchase his little brother's birthday present. The bookstore itself was not daunting; it was the children's department that sent a chill down Dean's spine. It was story time when he arrived and kids were everywhere, running, screaming, and generally wreaking havoc. Dean found himself wondering if any of the little beings were possessed by demons.

A harried sales associate finally took pity on him and approached the hunter as Dean perused a shelf of books feeling panic begin to set in.

"May I help you, Sir?" the grandmotherly woman asked.

Dean felt relief trickle through him. Help, at last. "I'm looking for some books for my kid brother's birthday," he told her. "Sammy's four."

The lady smiled. "We have plenty of choices for that age," she assured Dean. "Right this way."

Dean found himself surrounded by colorful storybooks on every topic. It took him quite a while, but he finally chose three books he hoped Sammy would like and thanked the woman for her help.

After paying for his books, he hurried back to Bobby's. The older hunter met him at the door with a frown. "Sammy's upset."

"Why? What happened?" Dean asked in concern as he shoved the bag into Bobby's hands and hurried into the house to find Sammy. He had to admit that he was growing attached to his little brother. The kid looked so lost and scared; Dean found he couldn't hold him at a distance.

"He kept asking me if I was sure you were coming back," Bobby explained. "He's in the living room on the couch."

Dean stopped in the living room doorway at the sight of Sammy sitting curled up in a ball on one end of the couch, the tiny Impala clutched in his hand.

"Dean!" the little boy called as he scrambled down and ran to his big brother.

Dean knelt down as the child threw himself into his arms. He stood, settling the boy on his hip. "Did you miss me, buddy?"

Sammy nodded, his hair flopping on his forehead. "I was afraid you weren't gonna come back."

Dean poked his kid brother gently in the belly. "I just went to pick out your birthday present."

Sammy wiped away the last traces of his tears and rested his head on Dean's shoulder. "I'm glad you're back, Dean."

"Me, too, buddy," the big brother agreed. "Ready for a snack?"

Sammy nodded and slid one arm around Dean's neck, his fingers playing in the short hair he found there.

The next few days flew by and Dean found himself awakened on the morning of his little brother's birthday by someone pounding on his chest. He resisted the urge to reach under his pillow for his knife and opened his eyes just in time to see Sammy swing his leg over his torso settle on his chest with both little hands pressing down on his big brother.

Dean blinked sleepily. "Hmm, I see the birthday boy is awake."

Sammy gave him a toothy grin. "I'm four today, Dean," he boasted.

"Gonna be an old man soon, Sammy," Dean teased.

"Am not," the little boy pouted. "I'm only four."

"I'm just kidding, dude," Dean grinned as he reached up to ruffle his kid brother's hair. He sniffed the air appreciatively. It smelled like Bobby was making the four-year-old a birthday breakfast. "Are you hungry?"

Sammy nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, let's go eat and then you can open your presents." Dean tickled Sammy's sides, and the kid squealed and rolled off of him.

After a hearty breakfast, Dean and Bobby settled on the couch with Sam between them. The boy tore enthusiastically into Dean's gift, squealing when he unwrapped the new books. "Can you read them now, Dean?" he asked.

Dean grinned, pleased his brother liked his gifts. "Maybe we can read them before bed tonight. Open Uncle Bobby's present."

Sammy nodded and reached for the other gift. He squealed again when he discovered a pad of paper and washable markers.

Dean let him draw at the table for a bit before it was time to head out to the local pizza place for a birthday lunch. It was kids' day, which made it the perfect place to celebrate a birthday. The place was crawling with kids when they arrived. Sammy pressed close to Dean's leg as he surveyed the busy pizza parlor.

They settled in at a booth and Sammy watched the other children with wide eyes.

Dean nudged the boy's shoulder. "That clown over there is making balloon animals. Why don't you go get in line?"

Sammy shook his head vehemently. He was not interested in getting anywhere near the clown.

Bobby ordered their pizza and Dean allowed Sammy to go to the small play area. He could see it from where they were sitting and thought it would be good for his little brother to play with some other kids.

Sammy shyly clung to his brother, so Bobby lifted the kid from the booth and carried him to the toy corner. It took a few minutes, but the older hunter got the child settled in with some Legos before returning to the booth.

Dean kept an eye on his brother; he was unable to relax without the child right by his side. Sammy seemed to be playing happily with another little boy who looked to be close to his age.

The restaurant was crowded, so it took a bit before their pizza was ready. Dean was distracted when Bobby drew him into a conversation about a hell hound he had ganked a few months ago. When Dean looked up again, he didn't see his little brother. Panicked, he threw his gaze around the restaurant. There was no Sammy.

He jolted to his feet in alarm.

"Dean, what is it?" Bobby asked, also rising from the booth.

"Where's Sammy?"

A shrill cry split the air and Dean knew that little voice immediately. He lurched forward, his heart hammering in his chest. Rounding a set of booths, he found Sammy pitched backwards on the floor in front of the clown. His kid brother had a look of pure terror on his face as the clown reached down to help him up.

"What happened?" Dean bellowed as he shoved the clown to the side and reached for Sammy.

The boy practically scaled Dean's body before burying his face in the crook of his brother's neck. He trembled all over and Dean held him tightly.

"He ran into me, man. I didn't see him," the clown explained. "He freaked out when he saw me. Guess the kid has a clown phobia or something."

Dean growled at the clown under his breath before resting his cheek against Sammy's brown hair. "It's okay, dude. I've got ya." Then he rounded on the clown. "You should watch where you're going!"

"Hey, the kid ran into me," the clown protested. "I was only trying to help him up!"

"Couldn't you see he was terrified?" Dean snarled. "You should have backed away!"

"Whatever, man!" The clown turned and stomped away, returning to the line of children eager for balloon animals.

Dean started to follow him, but Bobby appeared at his side and placed a hand on his arm. "Let it go, Dean. It's over, and it was an accident."

Sammy shuddered against Dean and clutched his shirt. "I couldn't find you," he whimpered.

"I'm here now, and it's time for our pizza," Dean soothed. "Bobby ordered cheese just for you, remember?" He shoved angry thoughts of the clown to the back of his mind and took Bobby's advice to heart.

Sammy nodded against him, but still held on tightly. He insisted on sitting in his big brother's lap while he ate his pizza, and he kept his eyes fixed warily on the clown across the restaurant.

Dean sighed with relief when it was finally time to head home. He couldn't wait to get back to the quiet of Singer Salvage. Sammy fell asleep in the car on the way back, so Dean lifted him and carried him inside.

When he tried to put him down on the bed, little arms twined around his neck. "Dean," Sammy mumbled.

"I'm right here, buddy," Dean soothed.

"I don't wanna have a bad dream about Momma," Sammy sighed.

Dean brushed the boy's hair back from his forehead and sat down beside his little brother on the bed. "Have you ever dreamed about anyone else besides your momma?" he asked carefully.

Sammy nodded and yawned.

Dean froze, worry for his little brother instantly consuming him.

To Be Continued…


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.

Chapter 6

"Who have you dreamed about, Sammy?" Dean asked gently so as not to alarm his little brother.

Sammy's small fingers played with the blanket that covered the bed. "Um, Miss Betty's dog. I knew he was gonna get hit by a car." He sniffled and pressed against Dean's thigh. "I didn't get to tell her though. Momma wouldn't let me go outside."

Dean stroked his brother's dark hair. "Did you dream about anyone else?"

Sammy nodded beneath his brother's hand. "One other time," he mumbled as he shoved his two favorite fingers into his mouth.

"Will you tell me about it?" Dean asked again. His stomach knotted as he worried what was ahead in life for his kid brother with these premonitions or visions. Dean knew that he himself wasn't parent material. His mother had died when he was four and his father had loved him, but his home life had been as far from normal as one could get. How in the world was he going to raise Sammy and help him through whatever struggles these visions brought his way? In that moment, Dean had never felt more inadequate.

Sammy, however, seemed to trust him. He crawled up into his brother's lap still keeping his fingers tucked into his mouth. He pressed his cheek to Dean's chest and released a heavy sigh before mumbling something around his fingers.

Dean gently tugged them from the boy's mouth. "I couldn't understand you, buddy."

Tears welled in his kid brother's eyes as Dean watched. Unable to stop himself, Dean shifted the little boy from his lap so that his face rested on his big brother's shoulder. He felt Sammy turn his head and press his face into the skin of his neck where his breath fanned out in warm puffs.

"The nice mailman," Sammy muttered. "He got hit by a car." Sobs began to shake the small boy's body.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean murmured into the child's brown hair. "I'm sorry I made you remember bad things."

Sammy's small fingers clutched at his brother's neck and he sniffled before wiping at his nose with his sleeve. "You make me feel safe," he muttered quietly.

Warmth blossomed in Dean's chest at his little brother's words. "I hope I can always keep you safe, Sammy," he replied as he pressed a kiss to the boy's temple.

"You will; I know it," Sammy replied as he cuddled closer and tucked his fingers back into his mouth.

Dean rocked back and forth rhythmically until Sammy dropped off to sleep once again. Then he just sat there and held him; he didn't want the poor kid to have another bad dream just because he'd made him talk about the visions.

A soft knock on the doorframe made Dean look up from his kid brother.

"Everything okay in here?" Bobby asked quietly.

"Sammy was telling me about the other visions he's had," Dean replied just as softly.

Bobby's face creased in a frown. "So there have been more."

Dean nodded. "I'll tell you later. I don't want to wake him up. He's had a rough day."

Bobby nodded his head toward the pair of Winchesters. "He looks good on you, Dean."

"Yeah?" the older Winchester asked as he rested his chin against Sam's brown hair.

"Yeah," Bobby smiled before slipping quietly out of the room.

The bond between the brothers seemed to solidify after that moment between them. Sammy was Dean's shadow everywhere his big brother went. Dean didn't seem to mind. He taught Sammy how to work on the Impala and then scrubbed the kid's grease-covered hands in Bobby's bathroom. He cooked macaroni and cheese with the four-year-old settled comfortably on his hip. Dean even looked forward to their bedtime ritual of a bath and bedtime stories. Sammy flourished in his brother's care although Dean still felt entirely inadequate.

Dean approached Christmas with the excitement of a child. His father had never really celebrated the holiday with him. They'd been too busy moving from one hunt to the next. There had always been a few hastily wrapped presents to open on Christmas morning and perhaps a Christmas special or two on TV, but that had been the extent of it for Dean. He promised himself that Sammy would have an amazing Christmas this year.

"I thought we could go get a tree today," Dean commented to Bobby as they worked together to clean up the kitchen after breakfast. Sammy had made a mess on the floor with his Lucky Charms, so Dean pulled out the chairs to sweep under the table.

"Sammy has really domesticated you," Bobby chuckled. "Sure, we can get a tree."

Dean's shoulders tensed. "He deserves a good Christmas, Bobby. The kid has lost both of his parents in the past year."

"I'm not arguing with you, Dean," Bobby soothed. "I think it's a great idea; I just never assumed that picking out a tree with a four-year-old is something Dean Winchester would do. Sammy has changed you for the better."

"Yeah, yeah, he has," Dean admitted with a fond smile as Sammy raced into the kitchen on bare feet with his toy Impala clutched in his hand.

"Slow down, dude," Dean admonished the small boy as he leaned the broom against the table and scooped Sammy into his arms. "Where are your socks?"

Sammy shrugged. "I don't know."

Dean plopped him down on the floor. "Go find some and put on your shoes. We're going to go pick out a Christmas tree."

Sammy bounced up and down with excitement, his eyes shining. "Really, Dean? Really?"

Both Dean and Bobby laughed. "Really, dude. Now, go find those socks and shoes."

"Okay, Dean!" Sammy raced up the stairs, the Impala still in his fist.

Dean was waiting in the living room when Sammy scurried back downstairs with his shoes on the wrong feet. Dean settled him on the couch and put the shoes to rights before he helped his little brother into his winter coat and tugged a hat down over his ears.

"Are we gonna get a big tree, Dean?" Sammy asked in excitement.

"Not too big, kiddo. It has to fit in Bobby's house."

This news didn't dampen Sammy's spirts at all. He just nodded. "Can we put or'ments on it?"

"Yes, we can put ornaments on it," Dean replied with a glance at Bobby. "Do you even have ornaments?"

Bobby frowned as he thought. "If I do, I wouldn't know where to begin looking for them. We'd better pick some up while we're out."

Sammy bounced up and down impatiently as he waited for Dean to put on his own coat. "Dean, what about a star? Can we get a star?"

"You bet," Dean replied as he lifted Sammy and tossed him above his head. The little boy crowed with delight.

The tree lot was busy. Dean let Sammy tug him around by a gloved hand to look at tree after tree before Bobby finally stopped them before a six foot spruce.

"What do you think?" the older hunter asked.

"Should fit in that corner in the living room," Dean replied with a nod.

"Is this our tree?" Sammy asked impatiently as he bounced up and down at Dean's side.

"I think so," Bobby grinned.

It didn't take long to get the tree loaded into the back of Bobby's truck. Sammy insisted that Dean pick him up so that he could peer into the back and make sure the tree wasn't going to fall out as they drove home.

"What about the or'ments and the star?" Sammy asked as he tugged on Dean's coat anxiously.

"We're going to get those now, kiddo," Dean promised.

Sammy grinned at him, the cold making his cheeks a healthy, rosy color. "We're gonna have a good Christmas, Dean."

"Yes, we are, buddy." The older Winchester tickled his little brother's tummy. This small boy was like a ray of sunshine in his dark and lonely life.

They reached the discount super store and Bobby grabbed a cart. Sammy insisted on walking by his big brother and holding his hand after proclaiming that only babies rode in shopping carts. He helped Dean choose two boxes of ornaments and then he helped Bobby locate the perfect star for their tree.

Dean stopped his little brother with a gentle tug on his hand as they headed for the registers. "Hey, Sammy, look. It's Santa. Do you want to go see him?"

The small boy stared at the red-suited man with much of the same expression he'd used on the clown at the pizza parlor. "Will you go with me?" he finally asked in a small voice.

"You betcha," Dean smiled. He felt Sammy's grip on his hand tighten. Bobby kept the cart as Dean led Sammy to the end of Santa's line.

Sammy pressed against his big brother's leg nervously, his fingers clutching the thick material of Dean's denim clad legs. "I changed my mind, Dean," he whispered.

Dean knelt down. "You don't have to sit on his lap. We'll just stand in front of him."

Sammy nodded, but still didn't look convinced.

When it was finally their turn, the four-year-old was practically scaling Dean's leg. Finally, the older Winchester scooped his brother into his arms and knelt before Santa. "Hi, Santa. This is my little brother, Sammy."

"Hello, Sammy. Have you been good this year?" Santa patted his fat belly and smoothed his beard.

Sammy's eyes were huge as he stared at the bearded man in front of him. He nodded his head and pressed back against his brother.

"Well then, what would you like for Christmas?" Santa asked kindly.

"Books," Sammy answered so quietly it was almost a whisper, "and a bike if it doesn't cost too much."

Dean swore to himself then and there that his little brother would have a bike for Christmas.

"Ho, ho, ho, Sammy! " Santa handed the small boy a candy cane. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Santa," Dean replied with a smile as he stood and lifted Sammy to his hip.

They rejoined Bobby and the shopping cart. "Did Santa ask if you'd been good?" the older hunter asked the little boy.

Sammy nodded.

"And did you tell him what you wanted for Christmas?" Bobby queried.

"Books and a bike," Sammy answered as he rested his head on Dean's shoulder sleepily. "Can we decorate the tree when we get home, Dean?"

"We need to get it settled in water first, kiddo. Maybe we can decorate it tomorrow."

Sammy nodded against him and fell asleep before it was their turn to pay at the register. He slept the entire way home, but woke with excitement when they stopped the truck in front of Singer Salvage. He eagerly danced along beside his brother and Bobby as they manhandled the tree into the house and got it into the stand. A few curse words were muttered as the tree first tilted one way and then another, but Sammy just pretended to ignore them.

Dean flopped down on the sofa once the tree was standing mostly straight. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he stared at the green monstrosity that had taken up residence in a corner of the living room.

"Isn't it pretty?" Sammy asked as he rocked excitedly from one foot to another as he gazed at the undecorated tree. "I wish Momma could see it, Dean. She liked pretty things."

He turned to look at his brother and Dean could see the sadness etched into the little boy's face. "Come here, dude." He pulled Sammy up into his lap. "I bet your momma is looking down at you right now and loving your tree."

"Do you really think so?" Sammy asked hopefully.

"I know so," Dean smiled as he thumbed a tear away from Sammy's cheek. "And after it's decorated tomorrow, it will be even more amazing."

Sammy grinned and then sniffled as he placed his fingers in his mouth.

Dean was awakened before dawn the next morning with his little brother pulling on his hand. "It's time to decorate the tree, Dean. You said we could do it today."

"I meant after the sun was up," Dean grumbled.

Sammy's lower lip stuck out in a pout. "You said today, and it's today."

"You'll make a great lawyer someday, kid," the older Winchester sighed. "Let me get dressed and have some coffee first."

Sammy ran to the chair in the corner and picked up his big brother's jeans, shoving them into Dean's hands. "Here ya go!"

Dean chuckled, his voice still raspy with sleep. He wasn't quite sure how he had lived without this kid in his life. He slipped into his jeans and tugged an old, soft t-shirt over his head before he scooped Sammy into his arms. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Lucky Charms!" Sammy answered gleefully, cupping Dean's cheeks with his chubby hands.

"Then Lucky Charms it is," Dean grinned, pressing his forehead to his little brother's before carrying him downstairs.

The Winchesters enjoyed a quick breakfast together and then Dean sent Sammy upstairs to wake Bobby. He knew the older hunter would want to be involved in decorating the tree.

Bobby appeared at the top of the steps cursing the early hour with Sammy tugging on his hand.

"There's coffee in the kitchen," Dean grinned.

"This kid has you whipped," Bobby grunted. "You should have sent him back to bed."

"You know you couldn't have either," Dean pointed out.

Bobby waved a hand at Dean in dismissal and shuffled into the kitchen for a mug of coffee.

Sammy ran to the bags containing the boxes of ornaments and began pulling them out. "Which ones first, Dean?" he asked excitedly.

"You pick," his brother grinned.

Sammy held up a blue ball. "Because blue is your favorite color," he informed the hunter.

Dean grinned, unsure of how Sammy knew that bit of information about him.

"And then a green one since green is my favorite color." The green ball was placed next to the blue one on the tree.

Bobby soon joined them, mug of coffee in hand. Dean lifted Sammy to hang the ornaments higher on the tree. Once they'd finished with the glass balls, they hung the box of candy canes Bobby had purchased. Last, Dean lifted Sammy one last time to place the star on the top of the tree. Then, keeping his kid brother on his hip, Dean stepped back beside Bobby to survey their work. "Not bad," he mused.

"Pretty good if I do say so myself," Bobby agreed.

"It's amazing!" Sammy squealed as he threw both arms in the air.

Dean chuckled. "I think you're right, kid." He hugged Sammy tightly; for the first time in his life, Dean was excited for Christmas.

To Be Continued…


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Chapter 7

Dean pushed his shopping cart through the aisles of the large toy store and stifled a groan at the mob of shoppers around him; he really despised shopping. Bobby had agreed to watch Sammy for the afternoon so that he could get some Christmas shopping done. His little brother had cried when Dean left, making it hard to follow through. Sammy had only calmed down when Bobby promised to take him out for lunch at his favorite fast food place.

A grin quirked Dean's lips. Just a few short months ago he would never have believed that this is what his life would have become. He hadn't been on a hunt since he'd taken custody of Sammy. Instead, he was Christmas shopping in a large toy store just two weeks before Christmas.

He maneuvered around other customers until he reached the back of the store where the bikes were located. At first all he saw were beach cruisers and bikes suitable for much older children. His stomach plummeted in disappointment. He had hoped to give Sammy exactly what he wanted for Christmas, especially since it was the kid's first year without both of his parents.

He kept walking and decided he'd turn the cart around and check one more time. That was when he saw them. There were four small bikes on the floor at the very end of the aisle. His eyes landed on a small Spiderman bike with training wheels. It would be perfect for Sammy. Reaching out to check the price tag, he winced. It was a bit more than he had hoped to spend.

"That's the last one of those," a voice beside him pointed out.

Dean glanced up to see a store clerk placing a sale sign on some of the larger bikes.

"They've been good sellers this year. If you want it, you'd better take it now."

Dean didn't hesitate. "I do want it; thank you." He lifted the small bike and placed it in the cart after he folded up the child seat. Elation shot through him. Sammy was going to love this bike.

"Merry Christmas, sir. I hope your son likes the bike." The clerk gave Dean a friendly nod.

"Actually, it's for my kid brother, and I know he's going to love it." Dean smiled his thanks and, after choosing a small red helmet to match the bike, he moved on to the book aisle.

As much as he had dreaded Christmas shopping, he found that he was actually enjoying himself despite the crowd. The most amazing part was imagining the look on Sammy's face on Christmas morning when he received the gifts. Thinking of the books Sammy already had at home, Dean chose four more that he thought his little brother would like. He also chose some coloring books and decided he'd have to find a stocking for his brother.

Books and a bike were all Sammy had asked Santa for, but Dean wanted to get a few things to wrap and place under the tree. He wandered aimlessly up and down the aisles before he decided on some puzzles, a matching game, and a toy car wash. He thought Sammy would like to use that on his little Impala. On his way to the front of the store, he found a stocking, some candy, and some other small items to stuff inside. Quite pleased with himself, Dean entered the checkout line.

He wasn't so pleased a few minutes later when the clerk announced the astronomically high price of his bill, but Dean bit back a remark and paid for the goods. After all, this was for Sammy.

Dean pushed his buggy to the car and tucked everything safely inside. He managed to fit the tiny bike into the deep trunk of the Impala. Excitement fluttered in his stomach as he once again imagined his little brother's face on Christmas morning.

His cell phone rang and he tugged it out of his pocket. He didn't recognize the number on the screen, but that didn't mean anything. "Hello."

"Is this Dean Winchester?" a female voice asked.

"Yes, who's calling?" He trapped the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he unlocked the door and shoved a bag into the backseat of the car.

"My name is Whitney. I'm calling from the county emergency services. I have a Robert Singer and a Samuel Winchester here at County General Hospital."

The air left Dean's lungs in a whoosh and he leaned one hand against the roof of the car weakly. "What happened? Is Sammy all right?"

"I don't have details, Mr. Winchester, only that they were brought to the emergency room after a car accident."

Dean swallowed hard against the bile that threatened to rise in the back of his throat. Not Sammy, too. He couldn't lose Sammy. "I'll be right there," he choked out.

Dean didn't remember hanging up the phone or climbing into the Impala. In fact, he didn't remember driving to the hospital. All he could think about was his little brother's bloody, lifeless body trapped in Bobby Singer's truck. "Sammy," he whispered brokenly as he climbed out of the car after parking in the hospital's parking lot.

Dean jogged to the emergency room entrance and made his way immediately to the reception desk. "I'm looking for Samuel Winchester and Robert Singer. They were brought here after a car accident," he panted.

The young woman behind the desk checked her computer screen calmly, not seeming to hurry at all. Dean found himself wanting to reach over the desk and find the information on his brother himself. How could she be so calm when his little brother could be dying somewhere on a gurney in this hospital?

"Here they are, sir. Looks like they are being treated right now. Um, curtain three." The woman pointed to the closed wooden doors that dominated the wall at the back of the room. "You will go through those doors, make a right, and it will be the third curtained area on the right."

Dean nodded his thanks and hurried forward. The receptionist must have pushed a button because the doors swung open in front of him. As soon as they did, the sound of Sammy's terrified screams reached his ears.

Dean had never felt so frightened or completely helpless. He surged forward and rounded the corner. He didn't even need to count the curtains to find his brother. The screams led him straight to Sammy.

Bobby sat on a bed covered in blood and looking dazed from a gash on his forehead. Sammy was being held in a nurse's arms. His face was buried in her shoulder and his entire body shook with sobs.

"Sammy," Dean breathed.

Somehow, the little boy heard him through his screams and raised his head from the nurse's shoulder. Wordlessly, the boy reached for his big brother and Dean scooped the child into his arms, running a hand over the messy brown hair before his eyes traced his brother's small frame searching for injuries.

"He's fine, sir," the nurse supplied the answer to Dean's unasked questions. "He will probably be sore tomorrow, but he is not injured."

"Thank you, thank you so much," Dean murmured, pressing his forehead against his little brother's.

Sammy gulped in a breath of air and his little arms wrapped around Dean's neck as the screams immediately lessened to shoulder-shaking sobs.

The older Winchester placed a hand on the back of Sammy's head and pressed the boy's face against his shoulder. Sammy cried there quietly as Dean rubbed his back in soothing circles.

"How are you doing, Bobby?" Dean asked as he was finally able to turn his attention to his friend.

"I'll live," Bobby admitted. "Slight concussion, but a few stitches and some rest will have me as good as new."

Dean nodded and shifted his brother in his arms. "What happened?" he asked as he held Sammy protectively against him.

Bobby sighed. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I was at a stoplight. The lady behind me wasn't paying attention and plowed right into the back of me."

"It wasn't your fault," Dean soothed. "Now, where's this lady who wasn't paying attention? Is she here?" He was ready to tear into her. Sammy was shaking like a leaf in his arms, terrified beyond measure. This lady needed to know what she'd done to his little brother.

"Nah, she wasn't hurt," Bobby sighed. "Poor Sammy was scared to death."

Dean nodded and turned his attention back to the still snuffling child in his arms. "Sammy," he murmured. "Hey, kiddo, look at me." He smoothed the boy's brown hair back from his sweaty, red face. Sammy blinked his tears from his eyes and stared morosely at his big brother.

Dean smiled. "You're okay, dude. The nurse says you're going to be just fine and so is Uncle Bobby after a few stitches. No harm done."

Sammy gave a shuttering sigh. "I thought me and Uncle Bobby were gonna die like Momma." He wiped his nose on his sleeve and Dean didn't have the heart to chide him for it. "I didn't wanna leave you all alone, Dean. I'd miss you too much."

Dean felt his eyes sting with tears and he blinked them back, unsure of what had happened to the hardened hunter he had been a few months ago. "You're not going anywhere, Sammy. No one is dying today."

Sammy pressed his face against Dean's neck with a wet sniffle just as the doctor pushed back the curtain. The middle-aged man introduced himself as Dr. Ogden.

"Mr. Winchester, your brother was most likely kept from injury by being properly buckled into his booster seat."

Dean nodded mechanically. "But you're sure he's all right?"

"Oh, he's just fine," the kindly doctor assured the worried big brother. "Give him some children's pain reliever tonight before bed and some more in the morning if he complains."

"I will, Dr. Ogden," Dean promised as he cast a glance toward Bobby.

"Now, Mr. Singer," the doctor continued as he focused on his other patient, "let's get you stitched up."

"I think Sammy and I are gonna take a little walk while you do that," Dean informed the two men.

"Good idea," Dr. Ogden agreed. "If you ask at the desk, someone may be able to find your little brother a popsicle." He smiled kindly at Sammy.

"Thank you," Dean told him as he turned away before the doctor started stitching.

A visit to the desk in the ER resulted in a grape popsicle for Sammy. The nurse on duty showed Dean to some chairs where he sat with his kid brother in his lap. Sammy sucked on the popsicle quietly, and soon he had purple sticky dribble down his chin and the front of his clothes. Dean didn't mind; he carried him into the bathroom and cleaned him up once he had finished the sticky treat.

Settling Sammy back against his shoulder, Dean returned to curtain three to check on Bobby. The older hunter was relaxing back against some pillows with a neat row of stitches now gracing his forehead. "How are you doing, Bobby?"

"I'm fine. I've got a hard head. How's Sammy?" Bobby eyed the small boy in Dean's arms with concern.

"He had a popsicle and then dropped right off to sleep," Dean told his friend as he ran a loving hand down his brother's back.

"This is going to stir up some bad memories for him, Dean," Bobby sighed.

"I know," Dean admitted. "I'm gonna keep a close eye on him."

Sammy muttered in his sleep and then whimpered.

"Sh," Dean soothed. "I'm right here, Sammy." The boy settled immediately. "He's going to be all right, Bobby," Dean stated fiercely.

"With you to watch out for him, I don't doubt that," Bobby admitted, wincing as his head pounded.

It was a subdued little group that shuffled into Bobby's home a few hours later. Bobby went straight to his room and Dean immediately ran a warm bath for Sammy before helping him into his favorite Spiderman pajamas.

"Dean, can I lay on the couch so I can look at my tree?" Sam whimpered quietly as Dean prepared a cup of Children's Tylenol for him. The boy took it without protest, proving just how tired and strung out he really was.

"Why don't we both lay on the couch a while, kiddo?" Dean offered. "Just let me change into something more comfortable."

Sammy nodded and scampered into his brother's room where he climbed up onto the bed and sat cross-legged.

Dean changed into an old t-shirt and sleep pants before scooping his little brother into his arms. "All right, buddy. Let's go enjoy your tree."

Sammy allowed Dean to carry him downstairs where the brothers stretched out on the couch so they could view the Christmas tree with its brightly colored lights. Sammy sighed with relief from his place against Dean's chest.

"I love you, Dean," he mumbled sleepily against his big brother's t-shirt.

"I love you, too, Sammy," the older Winchester admitted, holding his brother close as his eyes dipped closed.

The nights following the accident were rough on Sammy and the family. He woke up several times a night from horrible nightmares. Dean started lying down in bed with him to get him to go to sleep. Finally, he started taking Sammy to bed with him so that they could both get some sleep.

Bobby broached the subject with Dean one morning over coffee. It had been a particularly bad night with Sammy waking up three times from horrible nightmares. "Dean, we can't keep going on like this with Sammy."

The older Winchester ran a hand over his face tiredly. "I don't know what else to do for him, Bobby."

"Well, maybe it's time to talk to someone. I'm sure he's due for a check-up anyways. A good pediatrician will be able to give you some pointers on how to deal with this." Bobby stood and moved to refill his coffee cup.

Dean sighed. "Maybe you're right; I don't know what to do for him anymore. I'm letting him down."

"Now, don't talk like that," Bobby scolded as he pressed a firm hand on Dean's shoulder. "You've been there for him every step of the way since you got him, Dean. You've done everything that you possibly could. All I'm saying is that maybe it's time we get more advice. We're both out of our element here. Sammy's been through a lot."

Dean leaned back in his chair. "The doctor is going to think he's crazy when Sammy starts talking about his dreams."

Bobby sank back down into his chair. "Balls! I hadn't thought of that," he sighed.

"I suppose it still wouldn't hurt to talk to a pediatrician," Dean admitted.

Their conversation ended as Sammy padded into the room in his sock-clad feet and leaned his elbows on Dean's thigh. "Dean, when's Santa comin'?" The little boy gazed beseechingly up at his big brother.

"Tonight, buddy. It's Christmas Eve." Dean gave the four-year-old a tired smile.

Sammy thought that piece of information over for a moment. "Do we have cookies to leave for Santa?"

Dean cast an anxious glance at Bobby and relaxed when the older hunter smiled. "I bought some at the store," he assured Sammy. "They are in star and tree shapes, just the kind Santa likes."

Sammy grinned and then turned his attention back to his brother. "Can I write Santa a note to go with the cookies?"

Dean frowned. "You don't know how to write, kiddo."

"I can write my name!" Sammy protested. "You can help me with the rest."

Dean found a smile curving his lips. "All right. Go get your paper and markers and bring them to the table." He watched fondly as Sammy scurried away.

Bobby shook his head. "It's like you were born to raise that kid, Dean."

Dean's eyes widened a bit at Bobby's words, but Sammy returned before he could respond. He clambered up into the chair next to Dean and placed his pad of paper and markers on the table. "I'm ready!"

Dean carefully removed a sheet of paper from the pad. "What would you like to say to Santa?"

Sammy's chubby fingers picked up a red marker. "First, I want to write his name."

"Then write a big S like in your name," Dean explained.

Sammy looked up at him and grinned. "Santa and Sammy both start with S."

Bobby walked by and ruffled Sammy's hair. "You're a smart cookie, kid."

Sammy giggled. "What's next, Dean?"

The Winchester brothers stayed busy for the next half an hour. Sammy wrote a simple note to Santa and then drew a picture of what he declared to be a reindeer. Dean had to bite his tongue to hold back a chuckle.

When they were finished, Dean picked up the note and read it out loud to his little brother.

Santa,

I love you. I hope you like the cookies.

Love,

Sammy

"This is great, kiddo," Dean praised.

Sammy beamed at him. "Can we put the cookies on a plate now?"

"Not until bedtime," Dean explained. "You don't want them to go stale for Santa."

Sammy scrunched up his little nose. "We can't give Santa bad cookies." He crawled up into Dean's lap and leaned into his brother's chest. "Dean?"

"Yeah, dude?" Dean asked as he brushed a kiss to the crown of Sammy's dark hair.

"What did you ask Santa for?"

"Santa doesn't bring presents to grown-ups. We have to give each other gifts. Besides, I already got the best present ever."

Sammy looked up at him in confusion, not sure when Dean had received a present. "What present did you get?" he asked with a frown.

"You," Dean grinned as he began to tickle Sammy's tummy mercilessly.

The four-year-old giggled and squirmed in Dean's embrace. He finally slid breathless from his brother's lap. "I'm not a present, Dean," he panted.

"Sure you are," Dean smiled, reaching out to brush Sammy's bangs back from his face. "The very best one I've ever received. Now, go get your shoes on. We need to go get some gas in the Impala."

Sammy ran to obey and Dean's eyes followed the little boy. As long as he had Sammy, he didn't need anything else. The child really was the best gift he'd ever received.

To Be Continued…


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.

Chapter 8

Dean watched from the living room doorway as Sammy curled in Bobby's lap in the recliner. Bobby read "The Night Before Christmas" to the four-year-old who eagerly soaked up the story. When Bobby had read the final page and closed the book, Sammy looked up at him eagerly. "Can you read it again, Uncle Bobby?"

"Not now, kiddo," Dean called. "It's time to put Santa's cookies on a plate."

"Wow, I gotta go help Dean, Uncle Bobby," Sam told the older hunter as he scrambled out of his lap.

Bobby chuckled. "You do that, Sammy."

The little boy skidded across the linoleum in the kitchen and crashed into Dean's leg. "I'm ready to help."

"Which plate do you want to use?" Dean held out some of the plastic plates Bobby had purchased for Sammy.

"Do we have a red plate…or a green one?" Sammy added as an afterthought. "Santa would probably like those colors best."

Dean rummaged around in the cabinet and finally gave a triumphant cry. In the very back behind a stack of everyday dishes sat one chipped red plate. He pulled it out and quickly washed it off before placing it on the kitchen table. "Okay, here's the cookies. Pick the ones you want to put on the plate for Santa." He handed the bag to his little brother.

Sammy clambered into a kitchen chair and studied the pictures on the bag eagerly. "Santa's gonna love these, Dean," he grinned as he reached a pudgy hand into the bag and pulled out a star dusted with red and green sugar. Placing it carefully on the plate, he pulled out a tree-shaped cookie and arranged it next to the star. Sammy studied the cookies for a moment, tapping his chin as he thought, before he reached back into the bag and found another tree cookie. "There!" he announced. "Can we leave Santa some milk, too?"

"Sure," Dean smiled. He breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the refrigerator door and saw a new container of milk that had never been opened. There would be enough for Santa and for Sammy's cereal in the morning.

"Can Santa use my green plastic cup?" Sammy asked eagerly.

"Of course," Dean answered. He plucked it out of the dish drainer and handed it to his brother. "Go put this on the table by the plate and you can help me pour."

Sammy hurried to comply and only spilled one tiny drop of milk while pouring. Then he followed Dean to the refrigerator while he put the milk away and pushed his way in beside his brother.

"What are you doing, Sammy?" Dean asked in confusion.

"I was looking for carrots."

"Carrots?" Dean asked, dumbfounded.

"For Santa's reindeer. I think Rudolph likes carrots." Sammy gave his brother a pleading look complete with puppy dog eyes.

"Sammy," Dean sighed as he rummaged around in the refrigerator, "I don't think we even have carrots."

"But what am I gonna feed the reindeer?" Sammy wailed.

"Apples," Bobby piped up behind them. "It's been my experience that reindeer love a good apple."

"They do?" Sammy gasped as he scurried to Bobby's side.

"Sure, they do," the hunter grinned. "Bought some at the store the other day, too. Why don't we slice one up and put it on a plate for the reindeer?"

"Can we, Uncle Bobby?" Sammy bounced up and down.

"Sure," Bobby grinned as he grabbed an apple from the bag on the counter and washed it off at the sink. After drying it, he took a knife from the drawer and sliced it carefully. Sammy picked up each slice and arranged it carefully on the plate Dean found.

"Time to put it by the Christmas tree so Santa can find it," Dean told his little brother. "Then you need to go to bed so Santa won't pass us by."

Sammy's eyes widened and he hurried to grasp the plate with the cookies. Dean picked up the milk and the plate of apple slices. He let Sammy lead the way into the living room. Dean watched as Sammy set his plate carefully on the end table that sat by the Christmas tree. Dean placed the glass of milk and the apple slices next to it.

"Go get your letter to Santa, Sammy," he instructed.

Sammy raced into the kitchen and grabbed his letter off of the table before running back to his brother. "Do I put it with my cookies, Dean?"

"Yep, right here under the edge of the plate," Dean instructed.

Sammy carefully tucked his letter beneath the plate and then stood back to look at the goodies for Santa. He bounced up and down on his tippy toes. "I hope Santa likes his snack."

Dean grabbed his little brother around the waist and lifted him over his shoulder. Sammy squealed in delight. "Santa's going to love it, dude, but now it's time for bed."

"Do I get a story?" Sammy asked hopefully.

"Uncle Bobby already read you a story," Dean protested as he carried the four-year-old up the stairs.

"But I like it when you read to me," Sammy whined.

Dean sighed and entered the little boy's room, dumping his brother gently on the bed. "I'll read a short book that I pick." He knew Sammy would pick a long story if allowed to choose.

"All right," Sammy sighed with a huff as he scrambled to get under the covers.

Dean chose a short, well-known story from Sammy's bookshelf and joined his little brother on the bed. He leaned against the headboard and felt Sammy's warmth press into his side.

"Dean," the little boy yawned, "I miss Momma. I wish she could be here to see what Santa brings me."

Dean swallowed hard. "I know, buddy," he admitted as he ran a hand over Sammy's messy brown hair. "I bet she'd be just as excited as you."

"Daddy, too," Sammy yawned again. "Maybe he'd give me another 'Pala."

Dean chuckled and blinked back the tears that threated to form in his eyes. "Yeah, Sammy, he'd love to be here, too. Daddy and Momma are looking down at you from heaven."

Sammy's fingers tangled in Dean's shirt. "I'm sleepy, Dean."

"Then go to sleep. We'll read an extra story tomorrow night." He stood and gently tucked the blankets around his brother.

"'Kay," Sammy sighed as he eyes drooped closed.

Dean smiled and leaned over to press a kiss into the boy's brown hair. "G'night, Sammy."

He stood in the doorway of the bedroom for a moment just watching his little brother sleep and hoping the boy had a peaceful night.

Dean was awakened the next morning at the break of dawn when a little body landed on the bed beside him and began to pummel his chest with tiny fists.

"Wake up, Dean! I think Santa came!" Urgently, Sammy twisted his fingers in Dean's white t-shirt and tried shaking his big brother awake.

"Wha' time z'it?" Dean grumbled sleepily as he blinked in the pale light coming through the window blinds.

"I don't know," Sammy admitted, "but we have to go see what Santa left, Dean!"

The older Winchester groaned and sat up in bed. Sammy bounced excitedly on his knees beside him. "I'm gonna go wake up Uncle Bobby now," he exclaimed.

"No need," Bobby's amused voice called from the doorway. "I'm already up. Got the coffee started, too," he informed Dean.

The elder Winchester gave a nearly unintelligible grunt before rolling out of bed and running a hand through his short hair.

Sammy grabbed his hand and suddenly looked almost scared to venture downstairs. "Do you think Santa brought me a bike, Dean?" he asked, his eyes round.

"The only way to find out is to go look," Dean chuckled as he tugged Sammy's hand and walked toward the doorway. They made their way to the stairwell with Bobby following. As they descended the steps, Sammy's mouth dropped open in awe.

"He did, Dean!" Sammy nearly screamed. "A bike! A Spiderman bike!" The little boy ran forward as Dean and Bobby grinned deliriously behind him. Sammy ran his hands reverently over the handle bars and the seat. "Wow, look at my bike!" He grinned up at the two men before him.

Dean used his cell phone to snap a quick picture of Sammy's happy face. "That's awesome, dude! Get on it."

With concentration, Sam rolled the bike away from the tree. He removed the helmet that was hanging on the handle bars

"Let me help you with that," Bobby told him. He knelt before the excited boy and adjusted the strap on the helmet so that it fit properly before buckling it under Sammy's chin. "Now you're ready."

With his tongue protruding as he concentrated, Sammy climbed on his bike and placed his feet on the pedals before grinning up at Dean. "Look at me!"

Dean snapped another picture and felt pride swell in his chest. Sammy was one awesome little kid, and he was blessed to have him. "Dude, you look great on that bike. We'll take it outside after breakfast so you can ride it."

Sammy nodded happily and climbed down when Bobby pointed at the books beneath the tree. "Books! Look, new bedtime stories!" the four-year-old crowed as he hung his bike helmet back on the handlebars of his Spiderman bike. He dropped to his knees, and as he did, he noticed the empty plates and the mostly gone milk on the end table. He lunged back to his feet. "Dean, Uncle Bobby, Santa and the reindeer at their snacks!"

"He must have been hungry by the time he made it to our house, Sammy," Dean explained. "Delivering all those toys is hard work."

"Looks like he left you a message at the bottom of your note, kiddo," Bobby pointed out.

Sammy leaned over and frowned at the handwriting beneath his own. "Will you read it?" he asked his surrogate uncle.

"It says, 'Thank you for the cookies, Sammy. Love, Santa.'"

Sammy bounced up and down. "He liked them!"

Dean chuckled and scooped his little brother into his arms before settling on the floor next to the Christmas tree. "Me and Bobby got you some presents, too. Are you ready to open them?"

Sammy nodded excitedly, his hair ruffling Dean's chin.

Bobby shifted the presents over in front of Dean so that Sammy could reach them. "These are from your brother."

The four-year-old picked up the top box and unwrapped it carefully. "A puzzle! Can you help me put it together, Dean?"

His older brother chuckled. "Later, okay? We still have presents to open."

Sammy nodded and reached for the next box, excited to tear the paper off and find a game. "Is it a game, Dean? Can you show me how to play it?"

Once again his older brother laughed. "Sure I will, buddy, but you need to keep opening. You have one more gift from me."

Sammy reached for the last box and tore off the wrapping. "It's for my cars!" he squealed.

"It's a car wash," Dean explained as he pointed to the picture on the box.

"I can wash my 'Pala so it will be as shiny as yours, Dean." Sammy twisted in his brother's lap so that he could smile up at him. "Thank you!"

"You are very welcome," Dean told him. "Now you get to open a present from Uncle Bobby."

The older hunter cleared his throat before passing Sammy a flat box. "Hope you like it, kiddo."

Sammy ripped off the paper and pulled of the lid. "Wow, new Spiderman pajamas!" He pulled them out of the box and found webbing sewn between the arms and the body of the pajamas. "Can I put them on now?"

Bobby grinned because the little boy seemed to love his present.

"No, but you can wear them tonight. I promise," Dean told him.

"Here's one more present, Sammy," Bobby told him. "This one's from me, too." He handed Sammy one last box.

The little boy took it and hurried to pull off the paper. His face lit up with happiness. "It's a race track and some cars!" He squirmed out of Dean's lap and ran to Bobby, throwing his arms around the man's neck. "Thank you for my presents!"

"You're welcome, Sammy," Bobby told him as he wrapped the little boy in a hug.

Sammy let him go and leapt over the pile of discarded wrapping paper to get back to his brother. "Thank you for my presents, Dean. This is the bestest Christmas!"

"I'm glad you think so," Bobby laughed.

"Me and Sammy got you a present," Dean told the older hunter. "You can give it to him, Sammy."

"'Kay." The little boy scurried to the tree and pulled out a flat box. "Here, Uncle Bobby. I helped Dean pick it out."

"Thank you, Sammy," Bobby smiled. He carefully divested the box of its paper to find a new flannel shirt and a nice leather journal. "These are perfect! Thank you, Sammy, Dean." He smiled at both Winchester brothers.

"You're welcome," Sammy sang out with a happy smile.

Bobby reached under the tree and handed Dean a box. "That's from me," he smiled.

Dean felt as if he needed to pinch himself to see if this was really happening. Never in his life had he celebrated a normal Christmas after his mother died and now he almost felt like he should be in a Norman Rockwell painting. This was all so normal. He tentatively pulled back the paper on the gift and found a book that chronicled the history of his favorite bands. "This is incredible! Thanks, Bobby!"

Sammy leaned on his brother's shoulder. "Is that for bedtime stories, too?" he asked.

Dean chuckled. "I doubt you'd like it, Sammy."

The little boy shrugged. "Wanna open my gift now?"

Dean looked puzzled. "What gift?"

"I made you somethin'," Sammy admitted, almost shyly. He crawled over to the tree and reached beneath it to remove a rolled up paper tied with a green ribbon. "Uncle Bobby rolled it up for me."

Dean took the paper his brother handed him and tugged the ribbon carefully to untie it. Then he unrolled the white piece of paper to find a black blob in the middle with three stick figures around it. There was a sun in the sky and two blue blobs that Dean assumed were clouds. "Wow, this is great, Sammy! I love it!"

The little boy leaned over his big brother's shoulder and pointed at the picture. "That's you, me, Uncle Bobby, and the 'Pala," he smiled happily. Then he pointed to what Dean had assumed were clouds. "That's Momma and Daddy watchin' me from heaven."

Dean felt tears sting his eyes and he gathered Sammy into his lap. "This is the best picture ever, Sammy. I'm going to hang it up in my room so I can look at it every day."

"See, kiddo, I told you he'd like it," Bobby smiled.

Sammy looked relieved. "It didn't cost nothing," he explained.

Dean tugged his little brother close and tilted their foreheads together. "But you made it especially for me. You couldn't buy me anything better."

Sammy bounced away with a smile on his face. "Can I ride my bike now, Dean?"

Before the older Winchester brother could answer, there was the sound of a car in the driveway.

"Who in tarnation is that this early on Christmas morning?" Bobby fussed as he rose to look out of the living room window. He stared at the blue pick-up truck for a moment. "Cletus Harvey," he sighed. "What's he doing here?"

"Cletus? I haven't seen him in ages." Dean frowned at the mention of the mouthy hunter he'd met a few times before. John Winchester had despised the man and Dean had little use for him.

Cletus was soon pounding on the front door.

"I'm comin'; I'm comin'," Bobby growled as he kicked through piles of wrapping paper to get to the door. He tugged it open. "Cletus."

"Hey, Bobby." Cletus was about Dean's height, but with a thicker build. He stroked his brown mustache that was liberally sprinkled with gray. "Haven't seen you in ages. Thought I'd stop by."

"It's Christmas morning," Bobby grunted. "Why aren't you with your family?"

Cletus shrugged his broad shoulders and ran a hand through his longish brown hair. "Got word of a hunt nearby and heard Dean Winchester was staying with you." He looked over Bobby's shoulder. "Hey, Dean; good to see you."

"Hi, Cletus; what kind of a hunt?" Dean knew that Cletus would not leave unless they listened to what he wanted; the man was persistent.

"Can I come in or are you going to make me stay on the porch?" Cletus asked Bobby with a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"Sure, sure." Bobby stepped back to let the other man enter. "Want some coffee?" he grudgingly offered his uninvited guest.

"Thanks, Bobby," Cletus nodded as he stepped confidently I to the small house.

"Can I ride my bike now?" Sammy piped up as he tugged on his big brother's arm.

Cletus blinked in surprise. "Wow, didn't know you had a kid, Dean. Guess I never pegged you as the fatherly type. Got some girl in a bar pregnant, huh?" he sneered.

Dean shook his head and scowled. "This is my kid brother, Sammy." He ruffled the four-year-old's brown hair fondly. Sammy ducked out of the way with a giggle. "Go get dressed, kiddo; you can't ride your bike in your pajamas. You also have to eat your breakfast first," he added.

Sammy nodded and ran up the stairs.

"Have a seat, Cletus." Dean gestured to the couch across the room as he began to pick up discarded wrapping paper. He hoped their guest would quickly explain why he was here so that they could talk him into leaving.

Cletus watched Sammy's retreating back before he sank down onto the couch. "Never thought I'd see you with a kid. You babysitting?" he asked.

Dean shook his head and relaxed into the recliner. "No, his mom died a few months back and our dad passed last year. It's just me and Sammy."

"Dean, have you really thought about this? How can you hunt and raise a kid?" Cletus asked.

The elder Winchester brother shrugged. "I haven't hunted since I got Sammy."

"You're a great hunter, Dean. It'd be a shame to see you give it up. You are too good at that you do to just stop cold turkey."

"Yeah, I miss it a lot," Dean admitted as he ran his fingers through his short hair. He did miss hunting, but he had to admit that he liked having Sammy even more.

"Well, why don't you help me out?" Cletus grinned. "The kid can stay here with Bobby and be safe. I could use an extra pair of hands."

Dean considered his options. He had been feeling a bit restless the past few days. A hunt was just what he needed. Although Cletus was not his first choice of a hunting partner, the man was good at it. "All right, Cletus. Tell me what you got."

To Be Continued…


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.

Not Without My Brother

_Dean considered his options. He had been feeling a bit restless the past few days. A hunt was just what he needed. Although Cletus was not his first choice of a hunting partner, the man was good at it. "All right, Cletus. Tell me what you got."_

Chapter 9

"Werewolf," Cletus grinned widely, showing a missing tooth on the right side of his mouth. "Shouldn't take us too long to catch it."

Dean rubbed his chin, thinking. "I guess Bobby could watch Sammy for a few days."

Bobby entered the room then with a mug of coffee in his hands and handed it to Cletus. "While you are doing what?" he asked suspiciously.

"Cletus suggested I help him hunt down the werewolf he's after, and I'm taking him up on his offer."

"Dean," Bobby said flatly, "have you really thought about this?"

"What's there to think about, Bobby?" Cletus interjected. "Dean's a good hunter and he's been tied down with a kid. He needs a break for a few days."

Sammy clattered down the steps. "Can I go outside until breakfast is ready?"

Bobby looked at him and spoke before Dean could answer. "Just for a few minutes, Sammy."

"Okay," the little boy chirped happily as he shrugged into his coat, tugged on his hat, and slammed out of the back door.

"I need to get a few things out of the car," Cletus informed the two men after sensing the tension building in the room. He hurried out after Sammy.

"What in tarnation are you thinking, ya idjit?" Bobby nearly roared at Dean once Sammy was safely outside and Cletus had disappeared behind him.

"Look, it's just a simple hunt. I'll be back in two days," Dean sighed as he attempted to placate the older hunter. "I've hunted werewolves several times."

"Two days? You'll be back in two days? Sammy darn near has a panic attack if you leave him to go to the store, Dean," Bobby yelled in frustration.

"Bobby, I need to do this. I haven't been on a hunt since Sammy came to stay with me, and I've been feeling restless," Dean sighed.

"You have a kid now. It can't be about what you need," Bobby explained with frustration still underlying his tone. "It has to be about Sammy's needs."

"I get that, Bobby, really I do," Dean sighed as he ran a hand over his short hair. "It's just a two day hunt. Sammy will be fine. You two can even come stay in the motel room with me. That way Sammy will still get to see me."

Bobby pondered the idea for a moment. "I guess if I can't talk you out of this darn crazy idea then Sammy and I will have to go with you."

Dean grinned. "Thanks, Bobby."

The older hunter shook his head and pointed a finger toward the elder Winchester brother. "This is going to be hard on your brother. Sammy needs to come first, Dean. Don't you dare hurt him."

"I love him, Bobby. I won't hurt him. I only want what's best for him," Dean explained, frustration with Bobby beginning to boil within him.

"No, you are putting your wants first, but I'll take Sammy to the motel. This will make it easier on the kid. I'm gonna go start the pancakes for breakfast."

Dean grunted. "I'll go pack our things. Cletus wants to leave tonight."

Sammy wandered into Dean's bedroom as he was packing his duffle. "Dean, whatcha doin'?" he asked as he clambered up on the bed beside the open bag.

"I'm packing to go on a trip with Cletus," Dean answered as he tucked clean boxers into the corner of the bag.

Sammy was immediately panic stricken. "No, Dean, don't leave me," he nearly wailed.

Dean sat on the bed and reached for his little brother. Sammy wound his arms around Dean's neck and held on tightly. "Don't worry, kiddo. You and Bobby are going to ride in the car with me and stay in the motel room while I go hunting with Cletus."

"I want to hunt with you, Dean. I'll be good; I promise." Sammy leaned back just far enough so that he could look into his brother's face as huge crocodile tears rolled down his cheeks.

Dean brushed the tears away with his thumb. "It's too dangerous for a four-year-old, Sammy, but you and Bobby will be in the motel close by and I won't be gone long."

Sammy popped his fingers into his mouth and began to sulk.

Dean ruffled the kid's mop of brown hair. "Hey, stop pouting. You and I are going outside to try out that new bike as soon as we eat breakfast."

That caught the little boy's attention and he slid down from Dean's lap and grabbed his big brother's hand, tugging eagerly.

"All right, all right," Dean laughed as he allowed himself to be pulled down the stairs and into the kitchen.

It was a proud big brother that watched a short while later as Sammy pedaled his bike slowly around the cement slab that served as a back patio. The red helmet was securely fastened under his chin and he had a wide smile on his face.

"Look at me, Dean!" he crowed happily. "I'm doing it!"

"I see that, buddy! Good job!" Dean congratulated him proudly.

Cletus approached from across the yard, slapping a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder. "If anyone had told me that Dean Winchester would be teaching a kid to ride a bike, I would have laughed in his face."

The man's comment rubbed Dean the wrong way, and he scowled. "And why is that?" he asked sharply.

Cletus took a step back and held his hands up in front of him in a surrendering gesture. "Hey, I'm just sayin'. Don't get your panties in a knot."

Dean growled, but before he could say anything Sammy called out to him.

"Watch me turn, Dean!" The four-year-old turned his bike sharply and rode to the other side of the patio.

"Awesome, Sammy!" Dean encouraged as he forced himself to ignore Cletus' presence and focused instead on his little brother.

Christmas dinner was a tense affair. Dean cut up Sammy's turkey and glanced over to see Bobby and Cletus staring at one another across the table as they sized each other up. Thankfully, Sammy broke the tension.

"Uncle Bobby, didja see me riding my bike?"

"Nope, sure didn't," Bobby told the small boy. "You'll have to show me how good you are at it after we finish eating. Dean and Cletus can clean up the kitchen."

"Hey, I'm your guest," Cletus sputtered.

"An uninvited one," Bobby muttered before turning his attention back to Sammy. "Did you remember to wear the helmet Santa brought you?"

"Sure I did," Sammy grinned. "Dean helped me put it on. He told me I have to wear it every time I ride my bike."

Bobby nodded. "That's real important."

Sammy held his glass with two hands and gulped the last of his milk. "Can I go outside and ride my bike now?"

Dean looked at his kid brother's milk mustache and grinned. "Go in the bathroom and wipe your mouth first. Don't use your sleeve!" he cautioned, just as Sammy raised it to his face.

While Bobby had Sammy outside, Dean used the time to pack a bag for his little brother and then loaded his needed gear into the car. When he went back into the house, Bobby had brought Sammy and the bike inside and changed the kid into his pajamas.

"Look Dean!" Sammy crowed as he ran in circles around the living room in his new Spiderman pajamas. "I'm Spiderman!"

Dean caught him and swung him up into his arms. "All right, Spidey, we need to get in the car. Do you want to take some of your toys with you?"

Sammy thought for a moment. "My 'Pala and my car wash."

Dean placed him on his feet. "Go get them; hurry up."

Sammy scampered up the stairs as Dean watched him go.

It was only a four hour drive to the motel Cletus suggested. This time Dean made sure Sammy had a bucket next to him in the backseat in case his stomach decided to rebel. The poor little tyke only threw up once. Thankfully, Bobby had volunteered to sit in the backseat with him; he was still too frustrated with Dean to even bother talking to him.

When Dean pulled into a parking spot in front of the motel office, poor Sammy was groaning and holding his stomach once again. "It's okay, buddy," Bobby soothed. "I'll get you a ginger ale from the vending machine."

Sammy nodded and allowed Bobby to lift him out of his booster seat. "Dean," the little boy moaned, his thin arms reaching for his big brother.

Dean took Sammy into his arms and settled him on his hip. Sammy immediately buried his face against his brother's neck. Dean rubbed the boy's back in soothing circles before he followed Cletus inside the motel's smoky office to rent a room. Bobby was waiting by the car with a bottle of ginger ale when they returned. He drove the car to the other end of the parking lot to park in front of the room while Dean walked carrying Sammy. The little boy was asleep, and his older brother hated to wake him up.

Dean inserted the key into the lock of the room he and Sammy would share with Bobby. The walls were covered in wood paneling. Faded flowered comforters covered the beds while a shag carpet blanketed the floor. A slight smell of smoke hung in the air. The room had definitely seen better days.

Dean chose the bed farthest from the door and tucked Sammy gently beneath the blankets. The four-year-old grumbled in his sleep and rolled over, curling into a ball. Dean brushed the boy's brown hair back from his face and turned to see Cletus following Bobby into the room.

"Thought we could go over my map before we head out. Bobby said I'd better come in here 'cause you wouldn't want to leave the kid alone while he's sleeping." Cletus' tone said that he didn't see a problem with it.

Dean made sure the blanket was tucked securely around Sammy's shoulders before he joined the other two men at the table. Cletus spread the map of the surrounding area out and all three men leaned over as Cletus marked the places that the werewolf had been sighted.

A short while later, Cletus pushed back from the table and stood up as he threw a questioning glance at Dean. "Are you ready to head out?"

Dean looked over at his sleeping little brother and bit back a sigh. As much as he didn't want to admit it, it was going to be hard to leave the little boy. "Sure."

"You aren't going to leave without saying goodbye?" Bobby queried, shooting Dean a hard look.

Dean was conflicted. On the one hand, he hated to wake Sammy; besides, he knew the boy was going to cry and probably have a tantrum. On the other hand, he wanted to reassure his little brother that he would be back soon.

Dean could feel Bobby's eyes on his back as he moved to Sammy's bed and bent over the sleeping little boy to brush his hair back from his face.

Sammy blinked his eyes open sleepily. "Dean?" he mumbled as he tucked his two favorite fingers into his mouth.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm getting ready to go hunting with Cletus." Dean smoothed the blankets, but Sammy sat up and threw them back.

"I want to go with you, Dean," he begged, tears welling in his eyes as he reached for his brother.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the four-year-old into his lap. "It's too dangerous for little boys, Sammy, but I'll be back soon."

"No, Dean, I don't want you to go," Sammy wailed pitifully.

"Dean, we need to leave," Cletus told his hunting partner as he shifted impatiently from one foot to the other by the door. "Time's a'wasting."

Dean tried to put Sammy down on the bed so he could stand up, but the boy clung to him. "Sammy, I have to leave, dude. You need to let go."

"No!" Sammy screamed, his fingers tightening in Dean's clothes.

"Bobby," Dean pleaded as he tried to pry his brother's fingers loose.

Bobby sighed. "Come on, Sammy; let go of your brother. The sooner he goes hunting, the sooner he can come back."

The older hunter's logic didn't work on Sammy. The child just tightened his grip on Dean. Bobby finally had to pull Sammy lose and hold onto him as Dean left. Sammy was kicking and screaming, fighting against Bobby with everything he had in him.

His little brother's screams echoed in his ears as Dean climbed into the Impala and followed Cletus' truck out of the parking lot.

It took Bobby nearly two hours to get Sammy to calm down. Finally, the boy slumped against the older hunter in exhaustion with his two favorite fingers tucked into his mouth. Sammy stared pitifully at the door as if waiting for Dean to return. His eyelids would droop only to pop open as soon as they closed. However, exhaustion won out in the end and he was finally asleep against Bobby's chest. The seasoned hunter tucked Sammy back into his bed and shuffled tiredly to his own. His battle with Dean's little brother had worn him out.

In the wee hours of the morning before the break of dawn, Sammy jerked awake with his heart pounding in his chest. He jolted to a sitting position and gulped in a breath, tugging at the pajama top that clung to his sweat-soaked body. He'd had a vision, and this time it was his brother that was in trouble. In his dream there had been so much blood and Dean had been lying in the middle of it. His big brother had been on his back in a field with the bright moon shining overhead. In the moonlight, Sammy could see the blood smeared on Dean's face and flowing from his chest. His eyes had been closed and he had looked dead. The little boy's stomach turned and he almost threw up over the side of the bed.

Sammy glanced across the room to the other bed where Bobby was snoring loudly. He knew Bobby wouldn't let him out of the room to search for his brother; he had no idea that Dean had told the seasoned hunter about his dreams.

"Dean," Sammy whispered in determination as he slid out of bed and tugged his shoes onto his feet before shrugging into his coat. He unlocked the door and slipped out closing it quietly behind him.

To Be Continued…


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.

Not Without My Brother

Chapter 10

Dean followed after Cletus through the moonlit woods as quietly as he could while he inwardly cursed himself. He should have known better than to hunt with Cletus. The man had gathered incomplete research which put their lives in danger, and Dean had no intention of dying and leaving his little brother alone in the world.

The werewolf had already surprised them once. Dean now bore bloody claw marks across his chest. He could feel the blood trickling down his stomach. "We need to go back to the motel and regroup," Dean whispered into the darkness.

"No, we've got this," Cletus growled, his focus solely on the hunt.

"We're going to get ourselves killed, Cletus," Dean snapped back. "I don't plan on dying tonight."

"Well I don't either," the other hunter spat back at him. "Just shut up and follow me." He entered the clearing that opened up ahead of them just as a snarl erupted from their right.

Dean raised his gun, hoping to fire a silver bullet into the creature, but it tackled him and knocked him backwards into Cletus. Pain exploded through his ribs and then his stomach was on fire as the werewolf's claws pierced his skin.

"Dean!" Cletus was scrambling for the gun that had been knocked out of his hand.

Suddenly, the werewolf stopped and sniffed the night air, his nostrils flaring. It turned and looked toward the tree line.

Dean's heart thundered loudly in his chest and he watched in horror as his little brother appeared in the clearing. "Sammy, no!" he screamed, watching as the werewolf left him and approached the four-year-old. He knew that the creature was going to rip his little brother limb from limb and then tear out his heart. Dean attempted to push to his feet, but blood loss and his broken ribs refused to allow his body to cooperate. "Sammy!"

Sammy screamed in pain as the beast lunged at him and grabbed his arm, but then a gun shot rang out. The werewolf dropped forward onto the four-year-old. Cletus appeared from the shadows and ran toward the creature, lifting it and throwing it to the side to get to Sammy.

"Sammy," Dean whimpered as he drug himself forward as quickly as he could. If anything had happened to his little brother he would never forgive himself.

The four-year-old was lying still on the ground, his face pale and streaked with tears. He whimpered and stared up at Cletus as if afraid to move. "My arm," he gasped. "It hurts."

"Looks broken," Cletus said bluntly. "Bad too by the looks of it."

Sammy's face crumpled in fear. "Where's Dean? Did the bad animal hurt him?"

"I'm here, Sammy," Dean panted as he finally made it to his brother's side.

"Dean," the little boy sobbed, "are you gonna die? You're bleeding." With his good hand, he reached for his brother.

"No, I'm not going to die," Dean assured him, brushing messy brown hair back from the boy's forehead. His eyes landed on his little brother's arm and his stomach twisted. The arm was broken near the elbow and twisted at an unnatural angle.

Sammy whimpered and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. "My arm hurts," he gasped when he tried to move.

"Stay still," Dean choked out as guilt began to eat at him. He should have never come on this hunt. He should have stayed home with Sammy and Bobby. If he had made a better choice, his little brother wouldn't be in so much pain right now. "What are you doing out here, buddy?"

"I had a dream," Sammy moaned as pain thrummed through his broken arm. "You were all bloody and laying in the grass. I thought you were gonna die, so I sneaked away from Uncle Bobby. I wanted to save you."

"Oh, Sammy," Dean sighed, rubbing the boy's cheek with the backs of his fingers before he looked up at Cletus. "We need to get him to a hospital."

"He actually dreamed about this?" Cletus asked, totally ignoring what Dean had said about a hospital. "You don't seem surprised."

"Can we talk about that later, Cletus?" Dean snapped.

The other hunter placed his hands on his hips. "We'll talk about it now if you want me to carry him out of here. Your ribs certainly aren't going to let you lift him."

Dean growled. "Cletus, can't you see he's in pain?"

"Then start talking," Cletus retorted. "We're just waiting on your explanation."

Dean ground his teeth together before he spoke. "Sammy has had dreams of people getting hurt before it happens."

Cletus' eyes widened. "No kidding?"

"Can you lift him so we can get to the hospital now? And be careful. He's in a lot of pain." Dean moved too quickly and the pain from his ribs and the gouge in his stomach sent black spots dancing before his eyes. He heard Sammy whimper as Cletus reached for him and cursed his own injuries. All of this was his fault. Sammy was in terrible pain because of him. "I'm so sorry, Sammy," he murmured brokenly.

"Dean!" Bobby's voice echoed through the darkness as he crashed through the woods and appeared in the clearing behind them, gun in hand. "Dean!"

"Bobby!" Dean called out weakly, relief flowing through him at the sound of his friend's voice.

"Dean, I can't find Sammy. He must have slipped out while I was asleep." Bobby's face was plastered with guilt.

"He's here," Dean choked out.

Sammy sobbed pitifully as Cletus reached for him.

"Don't touch him," Dean snapped at the other hunter. "Bobby can lift him now."

"What happened?" Bobby knelt beside the shivering, crying little boy.

"Broken arm. The werewolf grabbed him," Dean sighed. "You were right, Bobby. I never should have come on this hunt. Sammy is hurting because of me." The older Winchester brother had his arm wrapped around his stomach protectively.

"We'll play the blame game later," Bobby snapped. "Right now we need to get Sammy some help."

Bobby squinted at Dean. "You're hurt, too."

"Ribs," he panted. "And some claw marks."

Bobby winced. "Cletus, where's your first aid kit?"

"In my truck," Cletus answered impatiently with a glance at the dead werewolf.

Bobby grunted. "We need to move." He took his jacket off and handed it to Cletus. "When I lift Sammy, you wrap the jacket around him. He's going into shock."

Sammy screamed in pain as Bobby lifted the boy as carefully as he could. The four-year-old soon went limp in Bobby's arms as he dropped into unconsciousness.

"Sammy?" Dean yelled in terror as he struggled painfully to his feet and wheezed a breath.

"Just passed out from the pain, Dean," Bobby explained. "Probably a blessing." He glanced at Cletus. "Don't just stand there like a lump. Help Dean. There's no way he's going to make it to the truck by himself."

"I have to-"

Bobby cut him off. "You can come back and take care of the werewolf after you help me get Dean back to the car. Now move!"

Bobby made it back to the Impala before Dean could. It took the elder Winchester much longer to stumble his way through the woods. His ribs were screaming, but Sammy was his focus right now. This was his fault. Sammy was in pain because of a stupid decision on Dean's part. It was time to face reality. He had tried raising Sammy, but his life as a hunter was not made for children. Dean felt nauseous.

He nearly blacked out as he folded himself into the backseat of the car. His ribs and chest were on fire and he could barely breathe, but he needed to see his brother. Dean cradled Sammy's head in his lap as Bobby drove them to the nearest hospital. Every bump the car hit was pure agony to both Dean and his brother.

Sammy had opened his eyes after getting settled in the car and clutched his big brother's hand tightly. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Dean brushed a thumb back and forth soothingly over the smooth skin on the back of Sammy's small hand.

When they finally pulled up to the emergency room entrance, Sammy had blissfully passed out again. Dean's ribs were hurting so badly he could barely breathe. Black spots danced before his eyes.

"I'm going to let them come out and get you," Bobby threw back over his shoulder as he flung open the door and exited the Impala.

Dean floated in a haze of pain as his fingers stroked lazily through Sammy's brown hair. The door opened and he jerked in surprise, moaning at the pain it caused. Sammy groaned as well and another wave of guilt flowed through the older Winchester. "Sammy," he murmured, feeling sluggish.

"Mr. Winchester, we're going to load your brother on a gurney," a voice said by his left ear.

Dean nodded. "Gonna be 'kay, kiddo," he slurred as his little brother cried out in pain when he was lifted from the car. Dean was next and he couldn't keep the moan inside as pain ricocheted through his torso.

"We'll get you taken care of, Mr. Winchester," the same voice said kindly. "Just relax. You and your brother are in good hands."

Dean nearly screamed as a wave of pain rolled over him when a doctor probed his stomach. Blackness crept into the edges of his vision and he was unable to fight it any longer. He passed out into peaceful oblivion.

The first thing that crept into his consciousness was the sound of steady beeps. Opening his eyes, Dean found himself staring at a white-tiled ceiling lit with fluorescent lights. The smell of antiseptic tickled his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose.

"Dean, you awake?" Bobby asked, sliding a warm hand over Dean's forearm.

"Mmhmm," Dean murmured lazily before he attempted turning his head in the direction of Bobby's voice. "Sammy," he croaked out, his mouth as dry as cotton.

"Right here in my arms, Dean," Bobby soothed.

Dean saw his little brother nestled safely in Bobby's arms, his arm wrapped in a sling and secured tightly against his chest. "How's he doing?" Dean managed to murmur even as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"Waiting for the doctor to come back with the second set of x-rays," Bobby explained. "It's a bad break. They gave him something for the pain."

"Dean?" Sammy whimpered as his eyes opened into slits.

"Hey, buddy," Dean managed. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

"Will you hold me?" Sammy asked, reaching toward his brother with his good arm.

Dean tried to shift in the bed and winced as his ribs and stomach protested.

"You have two broken ribs and several stitches across your chest," Bobby pointed out. He ran a soothing hand over Sammy's brown hair and spoke softly to the little boy. "How about you sit beside Dean on the bed and lean against him?"

"Okay," the little four-year-old yawned.

Bobby stood and shifted Sammy carefully to the bed beside Dean.

"Dean," Sammy sighed happily as he rested his cheek against his brother's arm, pressing his nose against the bare skin exposed by the short-sleeved hospital gown.

"This is all my fault, Bobby," Dean croaked, gratefully accepting the cup of water the other hunter handed him and sipping it carefully.

"He will be okay, Dean. There's no permanent harm done, and we learn from our mistakes."

Dean swallowed hard. "It was my choice to come on this hunt even though I knew it would upset Sammy. It was my choice to bring him along and my choice to hunt with Cletus who I should never had trusted." He gazed down at the little boy who was now drooling on his upper arm. "This kid is the most important thing in the world to me. You were right, Bobby. He needs to come first – always."

The doctor entered the room then and pulled the x-ray up on the computer screen that was fastened to the wall, his face wreathed in a frown. "Hello, Mr. Winchester. I'm Dr. Cohen. I've been caring for your brother since he arrived. It looks like Sammy has a pretty significant break to the elbow. The only way to fix this is with surgery."

"Surgery?" Dean asked abruptly as he shared a scared look with Bobby. Sammy was going to have to go through the pain of surgery and recovery; Dean's stomach rolled threateningly.

"That's the only way I can guarantee your brother will regain full use of his arm," the doctor explained frankly.

Dean leaned sideways despite the pain he was in and rested his cheek on the crown of Sam's head as he tried to settle his swirling thoughts. It was his fault that his baby brother was in so much pain. He should have listened to Bobby and stayed home with his little brother. Sammy should have come first, not his restless desire to hunt. Those thoughts repeated themselves over and over in his head. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he murmured into his brother's silky brown tresses.

"The sooner we do the surgery, the better," the doctor continued. "We have an opening in the schedule; I can take him back right away."

Dean looked startled. "Right now?"

"Yes, I will send the nurses in to begin prepping him for surgery." The doctor stood. "Don't worry, Mr. Winchester. We will take good care of your brother."

The next few hours were pure agony for Dean. After they had wheeled Sammy away for surgery, he had finally lost the battle with his stomach and vomited all over himself and the bed. Two nurses had to clean him up, but he didn't even care. He just rested back against the pillows when they were finished and thought about his little brother. He knew he had some hard decisions to make after the fiasco he had caused.

The next hours passed slowly. The doctor finally returned and told them that the surgery to repair Sammy's arm was successful. "We have him in Recovery, Mr. Winchester. The nurse will help you into a wheelchair and your friend can take you up to the fourth floor to see him. Then we will move him to a room in the pediatric wing."

"How long will he have to stay?" Bobby asked when Dean remained silent.

"Probably just overnight," the doctor explained. "Once the cast comes off he may need some physical therapy. We can discuss that tomorrow when we go over discharge instructions."

Bobby nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Cohen."

"Thank you, Doctor," Dean mumbled gratefully.

The nurse arrived soon to help him into the wheelchair. Dean gasped in pain and it took him a few minutes to gather his wits about him before Bobby was able to wheel him down the hallway to the elevator.

A friendly nurse directed them to Sammy's bed in Recovery. Bobby wheeled Dean down to the fourth curtained area and stopped the wheelchair by the bed. Sammy looked so small in the grown-up sized bed. White sheets covered his pale frame. His arm was wrapped and resting against his chest. He breathed deeply as he slept.

"Hey, buddy," Dean murmured, his voice tight as he gazed at the still form of his brother. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, and I promise it will never happen again."

"He's going to be all right, Dean," Bobby assured the older Winchester brother with a hand on his shoulder.

As Dean tenderly brushed the brown hair back from Sammy's face, he turned to Bobby with tears in his eyes. He blinked hard to keep them from falling and swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. He knew what he had to do. "He's in too much danger with me, Bobby. I have to give him up."

To be continued…

Author's Note: For those of you who like stories about Dean with kids, check out the fic I cowrote with LadyWallace called "Life's Little Surprises." You can find it posted with LadyWallace's fics.


	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.

Not Without My Brother

_As Dean tenderly brushed the brown hair back from Sammy's face, he turned to Bobby with tears in his eyes. He blinked hard to keep them from falling and swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. He knew what he had to do. "He's in too much danger with me, Bobby. I have to give him up."_

Chapter 11

"Balls, Dean! What in tarnation are you thinking?" Bobby spat quietly, his cheeks flushing red with anger.

"It's too dangerous for him to remain with me – with us! Look what happened to him, Bobby! He was almost killed because he followed me on a hunt." Dean paced back and forth in agitation as he ran a hand through his short hair.

"The best place for that kid is with you!" Bobby argued as he stared at Dean incredulously.

Dean shook his head vehemently. "No, I don't want him to grow up in danger and learn to always jump at what's in the shadows. He needs to be in a normal family where he'll be safe."

"Just giving him to some random family isn't going to make him safe, Dean," Bobby seethed. "Think about this. Don't make any rash decisions. You're terrified and exhausted right now."

"I know what I'm doing," Dean growled at his friend. "I have to do what I think is best for Sammy."

"And I have to try to keep you from making the biggest mistake of your life," Bobby returned shortly.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," the nurse said tightly as she approached the curtained area where Sammy was sleeping. "I will have to ask you to leave if you can't tone things down. Our patients are resting."

Bobby grunted at Dean. "I'll be out in the waiting room if Sammy needs me. I can't be around you right now." He pushed past the elder Winchester brother and brushed by a surprised Cletus on his way back to the waiting room.

Dean sucked in a deep breath and was astonished to see Cletus approaching. "They let you back here?" he asked.

"Told them I was your uncle," he said as his lips curved into a slight grin. The hunter's eyes fell on Sammy who continued to sleep peacefully. "So he really has visions of things that happen?"

Dean nodded. "I don't want a lot of people to know, Cletus. I want Sammy to have as normal a life as possible."

"From what I overheard from your conversation with Bobby, it sounds like you want to give him up." Cletus studied Dean's face carefully.

"I don't want to, Cletus." Dean's voice was hard and his eyes were filled with sorrow. "It's what's best for Sammy; my wants don't matter anymore."

"I might know someone," Cletus offered, his voice quiet. "I was at my cousin's house last weekend. Some friends of theirs are looking to adopt. Maybe you can meet with them and talk things over."

Dean's heart pounded in his chest. He hadn't known how to start looking for a family for his little brother and now one had practically landed in his lap. He had thought he'd have time to prepare himself, but maybe the sooner he got Sammy settled, the sooner the little boy could move on with his life. "All right," Dean spoke, his shoulders slumping like that of a broken man. "Give them a call and see if they are interested in meeting with me."

Two weeks later it was settled. Sammy was going to live with Henry and Bonnie Carter. Dean had met with them several times and had spoken with Cletus' cousin. He and the Carters had signed a contract for a one month trial. If either party changed their mind within that time, then the contract would be considered null and void.

Dean waited until the afternoon before Sammy was to leave before telling him about his new family. He found the boy sitting at the kitchen table with his green casted arm resting in his lap. With his good hand, he carefully and methodically put puzzle pieces together as his tongue protruded from his mouth in concentration.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean greeted. He cleared his throat experimentally. His mouth felt as dry as cotton. "Come sit with me on the couch. I want to talk to you about something."

"Okay, Dean," the four-year-old agreed brightly.

The boy's complete trust and big smile made Dean's stomach twist with nausea. He sat on the couch as Sammy clambered up next to him, gazing up into his face expectedly.

"What did ya want to tell me? Is it a surprise?" Sammy asked as he bounced up and down on his knees.

"Not exactly," Dean began hesitantly. "I…uhhh….well, remember how you hurt your arm when you dreamed about me and came to find me?"

Sammy nodded and frowned. "Are you mad at me? Am I gonna get punished?"

"I'm not mad at you, kiddo," Dean assured his brother as he reached out to ruffle Sammy's hair. "I've just been thinking of ways to keep you safe. It scared me when you got hurt."

"But I'm okay," the little boy grinned as he tapped his green cast with his good hand. "'Member, the doctor said I'm as good as new!"

Dean reached out and tugged his little brother into his lap. He suddenly wanted to be as close to the boy as he could in the short time they had left together. "Sammy," he sighed, "I want you to be safe, and my job when I'm hunting is very dangerous."

His little brother nodded seriously. "Okay, Dean," he replied, his fingers moving to fiddle with the buttons on Dean's flannel shirt.

"Sammy, it's too dangerous for you to live here with me and Bobby. I don't want you to get hurt again," Dean blurted. He watched, horrified, as Sammy's eyes widened and then huge tears began to trickle down his cheeks.

"No, Dean. I won't get hurt again; I promise," the little boy sobbed as his fingers curled into the front of his brother's shirt. "Please don't make me go away."

Dean swallowed hard past the lump that had formed in his throat and blinked back tears of his own. Tenderly, he brushed Sammy's brown hair back from the boy's face. "Sammy, as long as you live with me you aren't safe."

"I'll stay right with you, Dean. I'll hold your hand all the time," the boy pleaded. "I wanna stay with you and Uncle Bobby."

"As long as you're around people like me you aren't safe. I love you too much to put you in any more danger. A new home is what's best for you. It doesn't matter how much I want you here with me." Dean nearly choked on his words.

"Please, Dean," the little boy begged, his shoulders shaking convulsively.

"You can't stay here, Sammy," Dean ground out. "You just can't."

Sammy slid down from his brother's lap. "I hate you!" he screamed before turning and running up the stairs. He fell and grunted as his knee hit the edge of one of the steps, but pushed himself up and kept going. Reaching his room, he threw himself on the bed and let the sobs come.

Bobby stood in the living room doorway and observed a broken Dean sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. "You're making a mistake," he said with an edge to the words.

Dean looked up at Bobby with red-rimmed eyes. "Sammy comes first. It's not about what you and I want. I know that now. He has to be safe and he isn't going to be safe in the world you and I live in." Standing, he grabbed his coat from the hooks on the wall and stormed outside to get some fresh air and clear his head.

Bobby sighed and headed upstairs to talk with Sammy. He could hear the child's heartbreaking sobs and knew some comforting was in order.

Dean leaned against the Impala's shiny black coat of paint and took deep breaths of the crisp, cold air. His eyes burned and his throat was tight as he fought tears. He never should have allowed Sammy to stay this long; they had become too attached to one another and now separation would be painful. Quickly, Dean swiped at a lone tear that had escaped and was making its way down his cheek.

He glanced toward the house and fought the urge to go back inside. He knew Sammy would not want to see him right now, and Bobby would be comforting the little boy. All Dean wanted to do was hold his little brother close and never let go.

Upstairs in the old house, Sammy curled against Bobby's chest as he cried brokenly. "Uncle Bobby," he choked out, "why doesn't Dean love me anymore? Is it because I left the motel room and got hurt?"

Bobby stroked the boy's silky brown hair and rocked him gently back and forth. "Sammy, your brother loves you more than anything in the world, but he's scared. When he saw you get hurt, it did something to him. He's somehow got it into his head that you'll be safer with someone else."

The youngest Winchester sniffled. "But Dean will keep me safe," he protested, "and I'll be good. I promise."

Bobby sighed and tightened his arms around the four-year-old. "This is Dean's decision, Sammy, but I will keep trying to change his mind."

The room was silent for a while except for the sound of the wind whistling in the eaves. Then Sammy spoke. "Are they nice?" the little boy asked in a small voice.

"Is who nice?" Bobby replied, his chin resting in Sammy's hair.

"My – my new family," Sammy managed to whimper.

"Dean says they are," Bobby assured him. "He wouldn't let you stay with someone that wasn't nice."

"Can I come see you?" the little boy asked hopefully.

"Well, we'll have to see," Bobby told him sadly. He knew Dean did not want Sammy to have any contact with the lifestyle of a hunter.

"I need to see you, Uncle Bobby," the little boy sobbed. "I'm scared."

"I know you are," Bobby soothed. A sound in the doorway made him look up. Dean stood there, his face contorted as if in pain.

"Sammy," the older Winchester choked out as he moved forward and scooped his little brother from Bobby's arms.

"I don't want to leave, Dean," the boy cried. "Please let me stay. I'll be good."

Dean sat on the bed and brushed the boy's sweaty bangs back from his tear-stained face. "I know, kiddo. I want you safe, Sammy, and you aren't safe here with me."

"But I promise I won't go outside by myself no more if you'll let me stay," Sammy sniffled.

Dean pressed his lips to the four-year-old's forehead and took a moment to restrain his emotions. "Sammy," he was finally able to manage, "you are the only little brother I'll ever have and you almost died because of me. I want you to have a normal life, and that won't happen here." Dean rubbed his cheek against Sammy's silky hair. "Letting you go is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life."

Sammy began to sob once more and buried his face in Dean's chest.

"Bobby, maybe you can order us pizza for supper tonight. It's Sammy's favorite," Dean commented.

The older hunter nodded. "Cheese pizza for Sammy coming up!" He left the brothers alone together and headed downstairs.

Dean knew he needed to treasure every moment he had left with his brother. "Want me to read your favorite stories to you?" Sammy nodded against him and Dean allowed him to slide to the floor. "Go get them."

Sammy scampered to the bookshelf in the corner and returned with an armful of books hugged to his chest.

Dean lifted the boy and the books and then settled back against the headboard with Sammy curled next to him. Together they read book after book with Dean making all sorts of silly voices for the characters. Sammy never said a word. He just sucked on his favorite fingers and clung to his big brother.

After he finished the final book in the stack, Dean looked down to see Sammy dozing fitfully beside him. A lump formed in his throat as he wondered if his little brother would even remember him as the years passed. They'd only had a few months together. Surely as time passed Sammy would replace these scant memories with happy ones created with his new family. The thought made Dean want to scream or cry, maybe both. Instead, he gently roused Sammy as he heard the rumble of Bobby's truck out front.

Dinner was quiet, and none of them actually ate very much. Afterwards, Dean helped Sammy with his bath and then dressed him in his Spiderman pajamas. It was hard to tear himself away from his little brother even for a few minutes, but Dean knew that Bobby deserved some time alone with Sammy. Dean left the two of them watching old cartoons on the couch and went upstairs to pack Sammy's belongings.

He couldn't help himself. He cried as he folded the small shirts, pants, and socks and tucked them into Sammy's duffle bag. All of the toys were boxed and stacked in the corner. The room seemed bare and empty when he finished. Dean had to remind himself countless times that he was doing this for Sammy; his wants didn't matter. He needed to put his brother's safety first.

When he finally ventured back downstairs, his eyes were red-rimmed. Sammy slid off of Bobby's lap and ran toward him, arms outstretched. Dean scooped him up and held him close, his heart breaking as the boy's good arm wound around his neck.

"Can I sleep with you tonight, Dean?" he asked tearfully.

"You bet, kiddo," Dean promised, swallowing hard as Sammy pressed a tear-dampened cheek against his own.

The night was long and Dean barely slept. Instead, he watched as his brother tossed and turned in a restless slumber. He rubbed Sammy's back when he moaned in his sleep and shed silent tears in the dark where no one else could see.

When the sun finally rose and brightened the small bedroom, Dean's heart was heavy and his eyes were blurry with the lack of sleep. No one really felt like eating the pancakes Bobby made, but they all made an attempt.

"Guess it's time to go," Dean finally choked out after glancing at his watch for the fiftieth time that morning.

Bobby cleared his throat before he tugged Sammy into a tight hug. "You behave yourself, kiddo, and remember that old Uncle Bobby loves ya."

Sammy nodded. "I love you, too, Uncle Bobby." His bottom lip quivered as tears welled in his eyes.

Dean held out his hand and Sammy took it, his small fingers closing around those of his big brother. As Dean led him out of the door, Sammy stared resolutely ahead toward the Impala and never looked back.

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: For those of you who like stories about Dean with kids, check out the fic I cowrote with LadyWallace called "Life's Little Surprises." You can find it posted with LadyWallace's fics.


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Dedication: In loving memory of my Memaw. She gave me the peas from her pot pies, taught me how to shell beans, and watched The Dukes of Hazzard with me. She taught me about Jesus and loved to sing the old hymns when we traveled in the car. She let me help her make Chef Boyardee pizzas when I was four and five years old. In church on Sundays, she passed her roll of cinnamon Mentos down the pew. I will miss her every day of my life. See you in heaven, Memaw!

Not Without My Brother

Chapter 12

Dean pulled the Impala to a stop next to the curb in front of a nice house in the suburbs. The house boasted white siding, black shutters, and a wrap-around porch. The grass was brown and dead and clumps of dirty snow lingered in the yard. Dean found it hard to make himself open the car door and step out onto the black asphalt. He would be leaving his brother here, and the thought made his stomach churn sickly.

Sammy clambered hesitantly out of the backseat and slipped his hand into his big brother's. "I'm scared, Dean."

The older Winchester knelt before Sammy. "It's going to be okay, buddy. Henry and Bonnie are very nice, and I'm sure you will settle in fine here after a few days."

Sammy shook his head. "No, Dean, I want to go back to Uncle Bobby's with you."

Dean sighed. "We already talked about this. It's too dangerous for you to live with me. You'll be safer here."

A sob caught in Sammy's throat just as a shadow fell over them.

"Hello, Dean," a man's friendly voice rang out. "This must be your little brother."

Dean glanced up to see Henry Carter beaming happily at him. The man was dressed in clean, but faded jeans and a gray t-shirt covered by a black jacket. His brown hair was neatly trimmed and his blue eyes were kind. Dean stood and kept Sammy's hand in his.

"Henry, this is Sammy."

Henry knelt down and offered Sammy his hand. "Samuel, it's nice to meet you."

Sammy's casted arm was in a sling by his chest and he kept his good hand in Dean's. His little chin jutted out stubbornly. "My name is Sammy."

Henry glanced up at Dean quickly. "I thought maybe you'd need a fresh start now that you're here. Bonnie and I thought we could call you Samuel."

"My name is Sammy," the little boy answered in frustration, his voice rising with a hint of hysteria.

"Then Sammy it is," Henry smiled easily as if sensing the boy's distress. "Come on inside and I'll introduce you to my wife."

Leaving Sammy's things in the car, Dean lifted Sammy to his hip. These were his last few minutes with his little brother and he wanted him as close as possible. Sammy's hand grabbed a fistful of Dean's jacket and held on tight.

The inside of the house was neat and smelled very clean. The hardwood floors in the entryway had a glossy shine to them. The walls were a welcoming cream color and a painting of a serene pasture graced the wall. "Right this way," Henry beckoned, leading them into a large, carpeted family room. A plush brown sofa dominated one wall. Across from it was a brick fireplace with a flat screen television mounted above it.

"Bonnie, Dean and Sammy are here," Henry called as he gestured to the couch for Dean to take a seat.

Bonnie scurried into the room, her long brown hair pulled back into a neat pony tail. Her large, brown eyes shown with warmth as she gazed at the little boy clinging to his big brother. She wore a pair of kaki dress slacks and a pale pink sweater. "Hello, Dean," she smiled before turning her attention to the boy he held in his arms. "Samuel, it's so good to finally meet you."

"Sammy," the little boy muttered petulantly before burying his face in Dean's shoulder.

It was then that Dean realized he had gone about this all wrong. He should have let Sammy meet his new family first, get used to them a bit before he had to stay with them.

Bonnie didn't seem to take offense at Sammy's tone. Instead, her friendly smile stayed in place. "Sammy, would you like to see your new room? Henry and I have it all ready for you."

Dean forced himself to seem enthusiastic. "Come on, kiddo. I bet it's great."

Sammy only shook his head and tightened his grip on Dean's jacket.

His older brother bit back a sigh and tried to ignore his churning stomach as he followed Henry and Bonnie up the stairs.

"Your room will be right next to ours in case you need us, Sammy," Henry explained. He opened the door to the second room on the right. One wall had been painted a royal blue while the others were done in much lighter hues of the color. A bed sat in the middle of the far wall covered by a quilt with baseballs and basketballs stitched onto it. A bookcase sat against one of the other walls with a collection of children's books already taking up one shelf. A small lamp sat on top, ready to keep the room lit with a dim glow at bedtime. A dresser sat on the other wall next to the closet. The room was very cozy and welcoming.

"This is a great room, Sammy," Dean managed to choke out, thinking of the small dingy room at Bobby's that the boy had occupied. Every child deserved a room like this.

Sammy shook his head. "No, I want to go home with you."

Dean had to bury his face in Sammy's brown hair for a moment to compose himself before he spoke. "I need to get your things out of the car."

"NO!" Sammy screamed winding his good arm and his legs around his brother.

"I'll help you, Dean," Henry offered.

In the end, Henry had to do most of the hauling as Sammy would not let go of his brother. Dean relished his last few minutes holding the four-year-old close. Sammy sobbed into his neck and he could feel the boy's warm breath against his skin.

"That's all of it," Henry panted as he placed the last box in the corner of Sammy's new room. "We can help him get settled once you leave."

Dean's stomach plummeted at the man's words. Yes, he would be leaving soon and his little brother would have to stay behind. His arms tightened involuntarily around Sammy as Bonnie appeared in the doorway.

She smiled kindly at Dean. "Well, now would probably be a good time for you to slip out. I have lunch ready for Sammy."

Dean swallowed hard. "Hear that, kiddo? It's time for lunch."

The little boy shook his head without raising his face. "Not hungry," he stated petulantly.

"Come on, Sammy. I'm sure Bonnie went through a lot of trouble."

"No!"

Dean sighed. How was he ever going to leave his little brother here with these strangers?

"I think the sooner you leave, the better," Henry pointed out regretfully. "Prolonging things won't make them any easier for your brother."

Dean nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. He pressed a lingering kiss to Sammy's forehead and whispered softly, "I'm doing this because I love you, Sammy."

Henry had to pry the small boy off of Dean. Sammy kicked and screamed, and it finally took both Henry and Bonnie to hold him back while Dean practically ran out of the house.

With his brother's screams echoing in his ears, Dean slid into the front seat of the Impala. Hot tears boiled up in his eyes and welled over. A sob escaped his lips and then another. Dean rested his forehead against the steering wheel and cried the tears of a broken man.

Sammy screamed until he was hoarse and kicked and flailed until he was limp with exhaustion. Finally, he pulled away from Bonnie who was doing her best to comfort him and dropped onto the bed, burying his face in the soft pillow. He plunged his hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out his small Impala.

Bonnie rubbed his back in soothing circles and frowned when Sammy flinched at her touch.

"I w-want D-Dean," he choked out as sobs shook his small shoulders.

Bonnie brushed his sweaty brown hair from his forehead and Sammy scooted away from her touch. "Samuel-Sammy, it's going to be just fine," she placated.

"N-not without Dean," he choked out. "I need my brother!"

"Why don't you come down to the kitchen and eat? I made some macaroni and cheese," Bonnie offered quietly.

"No!" Sammy retorted as he curled his fist tighter around the Impala and clutched the quilt along with it as if daring Bonnie to try to pull him away.

She sighed. "All right, then. Henry and I will be downstairs when you are ready to eat." Leaving the door open, Bonnie gave the small boy a sad look and slipped quietly down to the kitchen.

When she was gone, Sammy crawled off of the bed and shut the door. He felt a little better once the strangers were on the other side of the wooden barrier. Then he shuffled to the window and pressed his face against the cool glass. Looking up and down the street, he strained his eyes for any sign of a black Impala, but there wasn't a black car to be seen. Giving in to more sobs, Sammy fell face down on the floor and allowed the hot tears to soak the carpet.

Dean woke up that night with bleary eyes and a pounding headache. His phone rang insistently from the bedside table. He groaned as his head throbbed painfully from a hangover as he blinked up at the water-stained ceiling and tried to remember where he was. Cautiously, he turned his head to the side and regretted the motion immediately when his stomach rolled. A motel – he was in a motel, although he wasn't sure where the motel was located. And Sammy. He no longer had his Sammy. A glance toward the table showed discarded beer and whiskey bottles.

His stomach rolled once again, and Dean lurched out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. Falling to his knees before the toilet, Dean emptied the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl until only dry heaves were left. Falling back into the wall, he leaned his head against the faded wallpaper and allowed the hot tears to trickle down his cheeks.

The phone continued to ring insistently over and over in the other room. It took Dean a few moments to pull himself to his feet before he stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed onto his bed. He fumbled for the phone on the bedside table and answered it with a barely growled "hello."

"Balls, Dean! I've been worried sick." Bobby was nearly yelling into the phone.

Dean winced and held it away from his ear. "Don't yell. Got a headache," he managed to get in amidst the older hunter's bluster.

"Dean, where are you?" Bobby asked in a quieter tone, all trace of bluster gone for the moment and replaced with worry.

Dean sighed and pushed himself up on wobbling legs to look out of the window. All he could see was the Impala parked out front and a few rundown shops across the mostly deserted highway. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "Alone and drowning my sorrows."

"Dean," Bobby growled into the phone, "get your backside back into that Impala come mornin' and head back this way."

"I don't think so, Bobby," Dean admitted. "I need some time to get my head on straight, to figure out what I'm doing next."

"What's there to think about?" the older hunter groused. "You gave Sammy up to keep him away from hunting. You're going to hunt."

Dean ran a hand through his short hair and winced as his head throbbed. "I can't talk anymore right now, Bobby. I'm going back to bed." Dean pressed the end button and tossed the phone onto the room's second bed before dropping back onto his sheets. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget about the sobbing, scared little brother he'd left behind.

The ringing of his phone brought Dean back to consciousness late the next morning. He answered it with a groan. "Bobby, you better not be after me about Sammy again. I told you that he's better off where he is."

"It's Cletus, and I know he is," the other hunter answered.

Dean shifted to a more comfortable position against his pillow and ran a hand over his face. His head throbbed and a foul taste coated his tongue. He felt like crap and his heart was as empty as a black hole. "What do you want, Cletus?" he asked abruptly. "I'm not in the mood for small talk."

"All right, then. I've got a hunt if you're interested." There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Dean, you still there?"

"Yeah," the oldest Winchester brother answered shortly. "Last hunt with you was a nightmare, Cletus. I'm not up for that again."

"Oh, come on, Dean," Cletus wheedled. "We'll do better research this time before we go in for the kill."

Dean sighed. "What are you hunting exactly?"

"Vampires – two of them."

Frowning, Dean sat up in bed and held his breath when his stomach churned in rebellion. "Hunting vampires can be nasty business."

"We will be prepared this time. Besides, it will take your mind off the kid." Cletus knew he had Dean with that point.

"Okay, I'll help you. Where are you?"

"Little town of De Smet on 14. How long will it take you to get here?"

"I can be there by late afternoon, tonight at the latest," Dean replied as he scrubbed a hand through his hair and decided a hot shower was in order.

"Great!" Cletus enthused. "I'll text you the motel's address."

Dean gave a noncommittal grunt into phone before pressing the end button and tossing it onto the sheets. He glanced at the clock. It was ten thirty. He wondered how Sammy was doing and then quickly pushed the thought away. Sammy had a new life now, one that didn't include a big brother that pulled him into danger.

With a heavy sigh, Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and made his way toward the bathroom. He would shower, pack the car, and hit the road. It was time to get back to hunting.

To Be Continued…


End file.
